Silent Hillwood
by Demile
Summary: UPDATED AGAIN! "Helga!" Arnold cried out into the mist. The only reply he got was a scream of static from the small radio he clutched in his hand... then the shrill sound of metal scraping across cement, like nails on a chalkboard.
1. Chapter I: Worthless

**Hey Arnold!: Silent Hillwood**

By Demile

**Chapter I: Worthless**

Fifteen-year-old Helga Pataki emerged from the November morning drizzle into the crowded halls of Hillwood High. The main corridor was busy with students chattering, people rushing about, and a group of football players who are, nearly a month later, still gloating about their homecoming victory against Tacoma High.

She approached Sid who was leaning against his locker, frantically copying down something to a piece of paper.

"Hey Gifaldi, where's my homework?" Helga asked, casually resting up against the adjacent locker.

"Just a sec, I just have to copy down a few more lines…" And with that Helga snatched her paper from his hand.

"Hey! I wasn't finished!" Sid whined.

"Too bad, I have to turn this in in five minutes. Sid, what the hell is this?" Helga raised an eyebrow and shoved the paper in his face, pointing out the the little doodles of purple flowers, pink hearts and little cartoon cats.

"Oooops… I'm sorry, Emily got hold of it last night," Sid said, flinching a bit as if he was expecting to get whacked on the head by one of Helga's textbooks.

"Oh sure she did. Well then," Helga snatched the other paper from his hand then erased her name from the doodle-covered paper and wrote in Sid's. "You will hand in this one. Maybe you'll get extra credit for your artistic expression," She said as she stuck the other copy in her notebook.

"Why do you let her in your room anyway?" Helga asked.

"Who?" Sid raised an eyebrow.

"Em."

"Oh, well, I babysit when the 'rents are away. Have to keep an eye on my sis so I let her hang out in my room. She's stays pretty occupied with video games. She's gotten pretty far with _Resident Evil 5_," Sid said, smiling.

Helga rolled her eyes, smirking. Typical Sid, getting his 6-year-old sister hooked on survival-horror games.

"Well, I better get going. I gotta turn in _my _biology homework," Helga turned and walked down the hall turning into the science lab. It was one of the largest classrooms in the whole school, lined with about twenty-five individual desks and five large counters that spread across the span of the entire room. The walls were covered with posters and shelves adorned with various knickknacks of some scientific significance. Besides the stuffed, dead animals hanging from the ceilings and roosting atop shelves and counters all over the room the most unsettling thing were the two large refrigerators Mr. Peters kept in the storeroom. He used them for storing animal corpses for use for the taxidermy class. Sid was convinced he had stashed a body or two in there.

Sid was paranoid, but Mr. Peters did have a creepy vibe about him. Perhaps he spent a bit too much time with his taxidermy. Supposedly one can catch him having conversations with Barney, the eyeless barn owl, at lunch.

When Helga entered the room she sat her homework on the front table and took her usual seat in the back corner, next to a shelf lined with formaldehyde filled jars containing pig feotuses, frogs and other such lab animals that had quickly met their demise for the sake of science. She wadded up her sweatshirt into a pillow and rested her head on it.

She was exhausted. She was up most of the night due to a heated argument she had gotten in with Big Bob. It started when Miriam burnt the tuna casserole they were going to have for dinner. Apparently it was "her own damn fault" that her mother killed dinner. The argument then escalated to Helga being an "irresponsible little brat" which then brought Bob to the point where he was once again pointing out each and every little flaw that Helga G. Pataki had and every little mistake Helga G. Pataki had made.

"_And what does that say about you, __**Dad**__?"_

It was an old argument, one that occurred often and one that usually ended with Helga slamming her bedroom door in Bob's face and listen to him yell through the door about being disrespectful until he either lost his voice or was distracted by the sounds of the 3AM reruns of "The Wheel" coming from the living room.

Helga felt herself just about to doze off when Phoebe slid into the seat next to her.

"Helga, Ohayoo gozaimasu," greeted the petite Asian.

"No Japanese today, Pheebs. I'm tired," Helga said groggily into her makeshift pillow.

"Up all night again?" Phoebe asked, concerned, wondering what it was that kept her up all night this time around.

"Miriam burnt the casserole."

Phoebe nodded, understanding exactly what that meant, having witnessed such an incident occur twice before.

The science teacher, Mr. Peters walked in the door and sat a stack of papers at his desk and picked up his role sheet and began to take count of the students in the room. When he finished he went over the next chapter of their books and instructed everyone to take notes on it. Helga lay there, gazing out the window, and scribbling down key phrases every so often eventually stopping when Mr. Peters veered in his lecture from cellular structure to genetic mutations, to genetic engineering and creation of Frankenstein-esque monsters. She wasn't too worried by her lack of notetaking, she had a good solid B in the class and she knew that if she missed some notes that Phoebe would just let her copy hers later.

The class eventually drew to a close and Phoebe nudged Helga from her half-sleeping trance and together they exited the room. There was only very light conversation as they made their way down the festively decorated hall to the red and green streamer-lined stairwell where they went their separate ways; Helga to World History and Phoebe to Geometry.

Phoebe took a seat in the front row and waited impatiently for Mr. Hendrickson to hand out back the graded tests from the previous Thursday. Phoebe smiled when she saw the large A+ scrawled across her paper in red ink.

About 5 minutes later Gerald entered the room.

"Hey there, sweet thang," He said as he sat down in an open seat behind Phoebe.

Phoebe turned to look at the dark-skinned boy.

"Well, aren't we charming today?" Phoebe teased. It was obvious that the two had a thing for each other. Gerald confessed it to her in the beginning of their freshmen year and it had been and endless flirt-a-thon between them ever since.

Several more minutes passed and the two of them grouped up with Arnold and began working on their in-class assignment.

Meanwhile, Helga sat pretending to listen to Miss Russell drone on about how Hitler drew in his followers through the power of speech and propaganda. It was the same lesson plan that the young teacher had used three days ago; she was convinced that they hadn't discussed such a topic. So there Helga sat, gazing, half-lidded at the pale yellow wall half-wondering if Miss Russell was aware that she had the speech patterns of a 1950's science fiction robot, mechanical and monotonous.

After a while Helga noticed that people were shoving notebooks in their backs, a sure sign that class was coming to an end. Helga arose from her seat and exited the room before Miss Russell could even get her last few words in.

After lunch only two more classes lay before Helga. She attended creative writing without a qualm for it was her favourite for several reasons. Apart from getting to spend an hour writing, it was also the one and only class she shared with Arnold whom, much to her delight, would often sit with her to discuss their work. It was of no surprise that Helga was the favourited one in that class. Writing was probably the only thing she prided herself in at times. Sadly enough, she often felt she couldn't even do that well.

When class ended Helga exited the building and made her way off of school grounds, effectively ditching Geometry.

She plunged her hands into her pockets and counted about five dollars and smirked. Ice cream sounded really delicious right now, even in the thirty-seven degree chill. She pulled on her sweatshirt and then her gloves and continued on down the block.

Slausen's greeted her with a warm gust of air from the heater as she walked in. She pulled off her gloves and shoved them away in the front pocket of her sweater and slid into a nearby booth.

"Hey there, what can I get ya?" a dark skinned young man, possibly a college student, leaned up against the table, tapping his pen against his little tablet of paper.

"How about a small sundae," Helga said, skimming the desert menu.

"Ain't it a little chilly for that?" He smiled, "What flavour ice cream?"

"Vanilla ice cream, no strawberry sauce, extra hot fudge, whipped cream, nuts, all that jazz," Helga said.

"Will do," The young man winked and started to walk away.

"Hey Felicia!" The waiter called out as he walked back to the kitchens.

"Yeah Jamie-baby?"

"Can ya start me a small sundae please? Vanilla, no strawberry sauce, extra hot fudge! I'll be there in a minute, I just gotta put some frozen food away."

"Sure thing!" she said cheerfully.

Felicia Banks was a pretty young thing. She had perfect ebony skin that appeared to be free of blemishes, honey brown eyes, long eyelashes, and long tendrils of brown ringlets cascading over her shoulders... or at least they would be had she not had her hair twisted into a braid hanging down her back.

"Excuse me, would you like nuts on your sundae?" Felicia asked from behind the counter. Helga looked up and nodded.

"Pile 'em on, sister," Helga said and Felicia smiled. A few more minutes passed and Jamie was back at Helga's table with her sundae.

"Here ya go, can I get you anything else?" He asked.

"Nah, that's it! Thanks!" Helga said, as she tasted a small spoonful of thick, hot fudge.

"Hey kid, you go to Hillwood High with my little bro, Gerald, don't ya?" He asked casually.

"Yeah," Helga nodded, wiping a bit of whipped cream from her upper lip. "He's in the same gym class as me."

"Thought so." Jamie said. "Hey, speaking of which, shouldn't you be in class right now?"

"Hm… Say, instead of interrogating customers aren't you supposed to be doing your job right now?" Helga snapped and Jamie-o blushed and walked away back to the kitchens.

Thirty minutes passed and Helga was savouring the last few bites of her now melted sundae. She scooted the empty dish aside and left $5.50 on the table next to the tab.

She left Slausen's and headed off in the direction of her home.

Helga watched her feet as she trudged through the muddy sleet, kicking an empty soda can down the sidewalk then running to catch up with it before kicking it again. She shuddered and put her hands in her pockets, half-wondering if it would snow later. Helga kicked the can hard into an alley and it clattered loudly against a dumpster. A stray cat darted out from under it, slightly startling Helga.

Helga sighed and started walking again, this time kicking a small rock.

"It's coming!" Helga jumped, startled, letting out a small yelp in surprise as she felt a tug at her sweatshirt. She spun around and found herself face to face with a man. He was about her height with a rats nest of matted, brown hair tucked loosely under a tattered old beanie. His breath reeked of cheap whiskey and his soiled clothing reeked of sweat and urine. Helga took several steps back and gave a disgusted look to the bum.

"I don't have any money, go away," she sneered before turning to leave.

"The darkness! It's coming!" he shouted, flinging himself toward Helga, grabbing her arm, "It's coming for you!"

"What the? Get away from me!" Helga yelled, trying to pry the man's hand away from her arm.

"Don't let it consume…" Helga balled up her fist and sucker punched the crazed homeless man right in the jaw, jerking her arm away from him. The man stumbled backward, clutching the side of his face, "You can't stop it!" he screamed, pointing a finger to the sky, "There's nothing you can do!" he yelled, drunkenly stumbling over his own feet as he hobbled back into the alley.

Helga took off running, stopping when she was a few blocks away and looking back.

"Criminy, what the hell was that about?" Helga shook her head and continued her walk home.

She knew that Big Bob shouldn't be home for another hour or so, so there would be no questioning as to how come she was walking in the door so soon after school letting out. Though she knew she would have to hear about it later, the school would undoubtedly call and report that she hadn't attended her 7th period class. It was the fifth time in the past two weeks that she had ditched math.

Helga quietly opened the door to her house, trying her hardest not to make a sound, just in case Miriam happened to take notice of the time, or Olga happened to be around. She knew she wouldn't hear the end of her older sister's lecturing.

She stepped inside the house and turned to quietly close the door.

It creaked.

"You better get your butt in here right now, little missy!" came Big Bob's powerful bellow from the living room. Apparently, he wasn't at work.

_Great._

The blonde sighed and slowly walked toward the living room. She stood in the doorway and leaned against the wooden frame.

"What is it _Bob_?" she asked, practically snarling his name. She knew perfectly well what it was and she knew what was to come, it was a regular occurrence. She would come home from a day of school and her father would have to find something, anything, to be angry about.

"You know exactly what it is, little lady! The school called; your math teacher said it he didn't see you in class... again. Why is that?" The Beeper King had his hands on his hips and was glaring menacingly at the young teen.

Now here is where most kids would come up with some excuse and say something like: "But I've been going to class!! He must have just not seen me!" or "I'm _always _in class! He just marked me absent because he hates me and is always trying to get me into trouble!"

But Helga wasn't like most kids. She found such excuses to be rather puerile and clichéd.

"Why is that? Doi, maybe it's because I didn't go!" Helga scoffed.

"You know Olga…" Bob growled.

"Helga," the blonde corrected, rolling her eyes. _"Here we go again."_

"You know Helga, why can't you be more like your sister? She got perfect grades, never skipped classes and you know what? She is always so happy and helpful and she makes us so proud!" Bob exclaimed.

"Whoop-dee-shit," Helga mumbled and continued swearing under her breath as Bob went on ranting and raving. To Helga he was a broken record. She had heard it before, many times in fact.

"_Olga this. Olga that. Olga is perfect in every way; every freakin' way."_

She knew the drill. She knew would have to listen to this for about an hour or so then Gilligan's Island would come on, summoning The Beeper King back to his recliner. Or perhaps Olga would bounce through the door and announce cheerfully that she was going to make dinner then waltz of to the kitchen, causing Bob to completely lose track of what he was saying.

But what Helga wasn't expecting was what Bob had to say next:

"But you, look at you!" he paused, "You're worthless, absolutely stinkin' worthless!" Bob growled. Never had he so clearly manifested what he truly felt about his youngest daughter.

Surely this must have been what he truly felt.

"Just… go up to your room, I am sick of looking at you," He growled, clenching his fist and pointing a shaky finger to the stairs.

Helga narrowed her eyes at the man. She gave him a hard scowl, and little did Bob know that those furious eyes and locked jaw was his youngest daughters attempt to hold back the agonizing, pain-filled tears that threatened to leak from the corners of her eyes. She turned on her heal and stormed up the stairs.

"Oh and Olga," Bob hollered as she reached the top of the stairway.

Helga stopped and glared down at her father, locking her jaw even tighter, if that was possible, "Yes _Bob_?" she said venomously through gritted teeth, her fingernails digging into the wooden banister. She already knew what he was going to say and it meant nothing to her.

"You're grounded."

_"Whoop-dee-shit."_

Helga slammed the door to her room and fell down upon her bed.

She never understood how he could get her name so confused with that of her older sister. Olga Pataki was the golden child, doing everything to make _mummy_ and _daddy_ proud and never making any mistakes, just like a perfect little wind-up doll.

Then there was Helga, the pit bull in a family of yipping Chihuahuas; the tiger in a family of ordinary domestic housecats. She was different. She made mistakes. She admitted defeat. She was human. She should never be confused with Olga whom, apparently, according to her father, was more than human.

Helga stared, hard-faced at the ceiling for a very long time. She couldn't stop thinking. She couldn't stop thinking about how much she hated him, hated the man that was supposed to be her father.

But more so she couldn't get one particular word out of her head:

_Worthless._

So that's what he really thought of her…

_Worthless._

Was that what she was?

_Absolutely, stinkin' worthless!_

Out of anger a quick thought flashed through her mind. It was only for a second, if even that. But for that split-second, Helga wanted to plunge a knife into her father's heart… assuming he had one.

The same short, albeit poignant image flashed through the teen's mind over and over again…

She knew she would never hurt her father, no matter what he said or did to her and no matter how much she thought she hated him she would never, could never kill him. And yet the bitter scene continued to play in her head, tormenting her. The blonde girl's fury filled scowl fell away and all she could do was cry.


	2. Chapter II: Pain

**Disclaimer:** Silent Hill 1, 2, 3 and 4 and its creatures belong to Konami. Hey Arnold! And its characters are property of Nickelodeon, Viacom, Snee-Oosh and Craig Bartlett.

**AN**: Alright, I know it's been months but I am back! I mean it! Here is chapter 2 for you all! Hope you all enjoy.

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**  
Hey Arnold: Silent Hillwood**

By Demile

**Chapter II: Pain  
**

She ventured out of her room and slowly, almost sloth-like, down the picture-lined hall, paying more attention to the natural patterns on the hardwood floor than to where she was going. Not that she needed to see where she was going, this was her house after all. She had lived in it her whole life…

…her whole _worthless_ life.

She looked up slowly, meeting her own pain-filled gaze in the reflection of the glass that covered a photograph of the Pataki family…

…all _three_ of them.

Helga narrowed her eyes at the picture and then without a second thought, punched her fist right into the glass. The glass shattered under her knuckles the whole thing fell to the floor.

Helga fell to her knees and reached for a rather large shard of glass and observed it for a moment as if she were in a trance. She then slid the sharp edge of the shard over the picture, scratching a large x into Olga's face, then Miriam's… She pushed the glass shard into their eyes and twisted it a bit then removed it and came to Bob, who was standing to the left of Olga. She stared at him for a long while; her eyes traced his upturned lips…

_Smiling._

Then to his eyes…

_Happy. _

Helga closed her fist tightly around the glass shard, the cuts in her knuckles split open little wider… The glass was digging in to her palm and blood was seeping down her arm… She didn't notice.

Helga pulled back then plunged the glass shard into her father's chest then pulled it back out again and brought it back down then repeated. She ripped and tore at his chest with the broken glass until he was unrecognizable. Then she plunged the glass into his chest one last time and sat there for a moment, tears streaming down her face, and staring… just staring…

After a minute she finally rose to her feet and went back to her room, and fell back down on her bed and just stared.

The morning sun slowly made its way above the horizon. It's light desperately trying make it's way into Helga's darkened bedroom. It only succeeding in slightly penetrating the heavy fabric of her thick curtains and seeping in through the tiny open spaces on the sides, casting odd shafts of light over her still form.

She laid there, eyes wide open, bloodshot and staring directly at the ceiling, much like they had been about for most of the night after the tears had finally decided to stop bleeding from her eyes, which were burning; dry and scorched like desert sand.

She didn't know when she had finally fallen asleep of if she even had and she didn't really care.

Finally after several more minutes she moved. She sat up slowly and hesitated for a moment before finally sliding out of bed. The hardwood floor was cold beneath her feet.

Still in her trance-like state she flipped on the bathroom light and made her way to the sink and splashed her face with some cold water then dabbed at her eyes with a towel.

She rubbed her eyes then opened them and blinked a few times, letting her eyes adjust to the fluorescent light. Her eyes finally focused and she let out a small yelp.

She looked at herself in the mirror, taking careful notice of the red stains on the front of her t-shirt then the pink water that sloshed lazily in the sink then finally to her blood covered hands.

Her eyes widened…

"Last night..." she gasped. "Bob! Dad!" she shrieked as she rushed out of the bathroom and down the hall, failing to notice the hazardous debris that lay in the middle of the hallway.

She reached the door of her parent's bedroom. The door was slightly opened, she was afraid to look inside.

"I killed Bob… Oh Jesus, I killed my own father!" she whispered frantically to herself as she begun to hyperventilate.

She finally pushed open the door and tiptoed inside the room and crept quietly to Bob's side of the bed. She closed her eyes tightly as she reached for the covers. She opened her eyes and attempted to pull them off of her father's still form.

She jumped up startled when she heard a loud grunt and the large body in the bed shifted.

Bob grumbled something about breakfast and continued mumbling as he grabbed and armful of blankets and rolled over. Helga stumbled back against the wall and let out a long sigh as she slid halfway down to the floor.

She was expecting to walk in and find Bob dead from several stab wounds and the knife still in his chest and Miriam, still sleeping with her back to him. Fortunately that wasn't the case.

Helga arose to her feet again and silently exited her parents bedroom, relieved that she hadn't brutally murdered Big Bob Pataki.

As she made her way back to the blue-tiled bathroom she stopped suddenly when she saw what looked like a broken picture frame on the floor. The picture that the busted frame once contained was shredded nearly to the point of being unrecognizable. There were also several splotches of mostly dried blood covering the destroyed photograph as well as the glass shards.

The memory of what had transpired hours before in the hallway lurked in Helga's mind. She had figured out what had happened the night before but it was a bit distorted.

Still feeling a bit freaked out she decided to blame the incident on a combination of anger and pork-rind induced sleepwalking. She gathered up the mess of glass and disposed of it in the wastebasket next to her desk then made her way to the bathroom for a much needed bath.

She put the stopper in the drain and turned on the hot water and stripped down as the tub filled. Once it was a few inches from the top she turned off the water and stepped in and settled herself in its warmth. She looked at her hands realizing that her cuts were a bit worse then she had thought they were. She didn't think she would need stitches but they would sting like hell for the next few days.

She plunged them under the warm water and cringed at the stinging sensation. And people say that water doesn't hurt... Maybe if its purified mountain spring water it doesn't but this was city water, and Hillwood city water at that.

She shook her hands a bit and the sting finally subsided. She lounged there for several more minutes before taking a deep breath and dunking her head under the water. After a minute she surfaced for air and found herself, once again, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.

"Am I going insane?" she said aloud to nobody in particular.

"Damnit!" Helga cursed as she reached the bus stop just a few seconds too late. She watched in annoyance as the bus drove off down the street, "shit!" she swore again, knowing very well that it was going to take a good forty-five minutes to walk to school probably an hour considering that it was terribly cold and rainy.

Helga loved the rain… except when she was stuck out in it. She loitered around at the bus stop for a few minutes trying to decide weather she should just return to her house and try to play sick or arrive to school thirty minutes late. She opted for school, not wanting to face Big Bob at all today.

She pulled on her gloves, zipped up her jacket and began her trek to Hillwood High. She shuffled down the sidewalk, her father's harsh words repeating in her head. She let out a deep sigh.

"Hey Pataki, Helga, doll, don't let his word's get to ya. Big Bob's a moron and you know that."

Helga stopped in her tracks.

"Madam Blanche, I thought you were in Thailand," Helga said as she turned around to face the older woman, never once questioning just how the bohemian woman knew her very thoughts. Over the years Helga found herself a frequent visitor to Madam Blanche's shop of wonders. She had gotten to know the woman and Blanche had grown quite fond of the young Pataki. Blanche was a little wacky but incredibly wise. She was smart and also bit deceptive. She knew how to lure the naïve passersby into her shop and get them to spend anywhere between ten to forty dollars for a bottle of grape soda (Helga found this out from previous experience.) But Blanche wasn't entirely a fraud… in fact she wasn't a fraud at all. She did have that third eye, that sixth sense, that psychic ability. She was real… she was merely a psychic who pretended to be a fraud pretending to be a psychic; it was some sort of crazy cover.

"I _was_ in Thailand but I came back. I am needed here," she said plainly.

"Needed?" Helga raised an eyebrow.

"Dark times, Pataki, dark times," she said, a stern and serious look crossed the woman's face, "and you shouldn't be out here when…" the woman paused.

"What Madam Blanche? When what? When what happens?" Helga asked, now curious. While she did believe in Madam Blanche's psychic abilities she had a hard time telling when she was telling the truth or bullshitting just for kicks.

"Something terrible, kid, somethin' awful," she said, her Brooklyn accent as thick as the fog that was rolling in from the west. "Now, go on, get outta here or you're gonna be even more late to class. Be careful now."

Helga nodded and turned and continued back down the street all the while wondering exactly what Madam Blanche had been smoking during her recent stay in Thailand.


	3. Chapter III: Broken

**AN:** Here is the next chapter as promised. I apologise if it is a bit boring, but it is necessary as it sets up the next chapter (which is where the story starts to pick up and weird things really start to happen.) And please ignore any mistakes you find. I am gonna further edit it. Right now I just wanted to get it posted. Thanks. Enjoy. Please R&R!

* * *

**Silent Hillwood**

By Demile

**Chapter III: Broken**

Madame Blanche had just finished sweeping the side walk when she looked up to the sky. The day wasn't even half over and already she just wanted it to come to an end. It was about 10am and some old lady just made off with a book on predicting the future. Blanche was fuming.

The woman sighed as she noticed the dark clouds rolling in from the west.

"Joy," she mumbled, "looks like a storm is coming in."

Blanche stepped back inside the shop, closing the door behind her and made her way up the narrow stairway to the apartment on the next floor.

"Jack!" she called out upon flinging the door open. She pulled aside the beaded curtain that hung at the entrance to the living room, "Jack! Get up!" she growled as she stormed across the living room. She yanked the dark purple velvet curtains aside allowing light to flow in.

The man called Jack had been fast asleep on the emerald green sofa. He stirred and sat up groggily. He was a tall and thin man, probably in his mid thirties. He had short, black, crew cut hair and a goatee. He was also Blanche's younger brother, eleven years her junior.

"What's your problem?" he asked, yawning.

"Jack, there is a storm coming in. I need you to watch the shop for a while. I want to run to the store before the weather gets too bad.

"The darkness approaches…" Jack said plainly.

"Jack, quit kiddin' around and get dressed and come down and watch the shop," Blanche said, tossing a pair of jeans and a black button-up shirt in his face.

"Kidding around? You even said it yourself. 'Dark times, kid, dark times,'" he said with a mocking chuckle, rolling his eyes. Jack was always to poke fun at his older sister's beliefs and practices. The two of them were so different the only thing they had in common was their nose. They both had their mother's rather pointy nose.

"Something's amiss, Jack. I ain't jokin' but that's beside the point. Get your butt off my sofa and get down there and watch the shop. Or else this," she pointed to her right foot, "is going some place very, very unpleasant."

Jack rose to his feet and pulled on the pair of pants his sister had thrown at him then began fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

"Alright, jeez, Sis. No wonder men can't ever stand to be around you for more than five minutes! You are so demand… ow!" Jack rubbed the side of his head where he had just been hit by a black leather loafer.

"Downstairs, Jack," growled Blanche, eyes narrowed and hands planted firmly on her hips. Jack rolled his eyes and stomped off down the stairway. "Where is my damn purse?" she swore as she made her way through, over and around all of her brother's belongings. She gathered the pile of blankets that lay on the floor and tossed them aside to a purple reclining chair then began gathering various beverage containers and food wrappers that her brother had left a rather large mess in.

"Huh? What's this?" she said, kneeling to pick up a black, leather-bound book that was lying amongst the trash. She narrowed her eyes and rose to her feet and stomped out the door and down the stairs.

"Oh, skeptical brother of mine, what the hell is this?" she said, holding up the book. The words "_Eternal Darkness and the Venom of God_" were carved into the leather cover in blood red.

"Oh that, found it at a shop on the other side of town. This is some neat stuff, Blanche… a load of bull, but at least your work is interesting," he said, grabbing the book from his sister's hand. He flopped down onto a large red sofa and began idly skimming the book.

"Not _my_ work," Blanche growled, swiping the book from Jack's hand, "If you actually find yourself interested in what I do you can at least read something…" she turned and pulled out an oversized, white hardbound book from the bookshelf behind her then handed it to Jack, "a little more pleasant."

"_Divine Intervention: The Book of Miracles_… what a cheesy title," Jack frowned.

Madam ignored the comment and shoved the other book into her oversized handbag.

"Alright, I will be back as soon as I can. If you get any customers do not offer your help. Most of the people that come in here are regulars and do not wish to be bothered," Blanche ordered.

"Gotcha, Sis."

"Should you get some kid or hopeless man or woman they are most likely here for a love potion. There's some grape soda, camomile and ginseng in the back. Remember that's for love and out-of-love potions. Use cherry for lust, lemon-lime for wealth, and vanilla rum and orange soda for revenge," she continued.

"Creamsicles for the vengeful. Got it, sis!" Jack smirked.

"The list of in-store orders is hanging right next to the tarot card display. I just went through the order and everything is there. If Lana Vail comes in tell her that her book, _Psychic Animals: America's Greatest Weapon? _will not be in until next week. What am I forgetting?" Blanched paused for a moment, "No 'free samples', no discounts, no returns and… no feet on the table!"

Jack promptly got his feet off the antique marble coffee table and sat up straight as Blanche turned on her heel and left.

At Hillwood High School the halls were quiet, save for a few straggling students who were slowly making their way to their second period classes which had started minutes ago.

In the counselling office Helga sat at a large, round table right across from Dr. Christine Bliss and her own English teacher and advisor, Mr. Robert Simmons. Helga had known them both for years. She had been seeing Dr. Bliss on and off since she was nine-years-old and Simmons had been her teacher since around the same time. It was quite a surprise to her and her classmates when he transferred to the Hillwood High in beginning of their sophomore year.

"Helga, I am very concerned about your grades. You are falling behind in math. The fall semester is coming close to ending," Dr. Bliss looked at Helga who was slouched forward in her chair, resting lazily against the table.

"If you don't manage to pull a C in your math class you will have to retake this class next year," Simmons said, "Helga, you can do better than this. You have a perfect… beyond perfect grade in your creative writing elective as well your college-prep English class."

"Your chemistry grade is acceptable and you are doing well in World History and in Japanese. But you are near failing in math!" Dr. Bliss leaned forward, across the table, "do you understand?"

Helga rolled her eyes.

"Hai, wakarimasu. Demo… dou iu koto da?" she asked, smirking.

(Yes, I understand… but what are you getting at/what do you mean?)

"This isn't funny. Helga, You are a brilliant girl. I know you know the material. Your test scores are great but your attendance is killing you." Dr. Bliss said, never once raising her voice.

"I am not a mathematician. Why bother?" Helga sighed.

"You are not a scientist either yet you attend Chemistry without a problem," Bliss stated.

"Pheebs is in that class," Helga said, plainly and both Dr. Bliss and Mr. Simmons shook their heads and sighed.

" Look Helga, we are just concerned. Math isn't the only class you have ditched. According to attendance sheets you also ditched World History, were tardy to Japanese and even ditched English in the same week. English, Helga, English!" Simmons said, raising his voice a bit in frustration. If there was ever anyone who could get Simmons to loose his cool it was Helga, "…and the week before that, an entire day of unexcused absences and another day the week before that. Helga this is unacceptable."

Helga stood up and planted her hands firmly on her hips.

"Who cares if I ditch? I am doing fine in all those classes, I don't see what the big deal is! Whoo! I get to retake this math class again in my junior year, whoo-dee-shit!" She yelled, throwing her hands in the air, "it's not like I had anything else planned for third period next year, seeing as how apparently I am not being allowed to take the creative writing course again!"

The two adults looked at each other for a moment then turned their sad gazes back to Helga

" That's the main reason we called you here," Dr. Bliss said, "Robert?"

Mr. Simmons slid Helga a large, tan envelope. Helga raised an eyebrow and opened the parcel and pulled out its contents and began to read the top page of the document. After several seconds Helga stopped reading. Her eyes no longer scanned the paper. She just stared at it.

"A scholarship…" she whispered, somewhat shaking now, "a writers scholarship for… for a year long writing program at…"

"University of Kent in Canterbury, England," Mr. Simmons finished her sentence. Helga just continued to stare at the document in disbelief.

"It was announced at the assembly we had this morning during first period… which you missed," Dr. Bliss said that stern, almost lecturing tone to her voice.

"Hey! I missed the effin' bus, its not my fault it was early," Helga growled.

"That is beside the point… Helga," Dr. Bliss looked at her and placed her hands over the scholarship letter, "do you want this?"

Helga jerked her head up to look at the woman. Of course she wanted this. This was a chance to live in a foreign country. This was her chance to get away from her family, away from Hillwood. This was a chance to do something just for her.

"More than anything," Helga said, without hesitation.

"Then you need to get your act together," Dr. Bliss said.

"We have discussed this with Mr. Hendrickson and he has agreed to give you until the first day of Christmas break to make up the work you have missed," Mr. Simmons said. He rose to his feet and paced the length of the room a few times, "Now, you know Mr. Hendrickson's policy on late work, he doesn't accept it. He is making a special, very special exception just for you Helga. You have the opportunity to make up the work you have missed and turn it in for full credit," he said.

"You're serious?" Helga was blown away. Hendrickson was a strict man, one who rarely let being late slide, even if only by a few seconds. And here he was, supposedly willing to overlook several weeks worth of truancy! She didn't believe it.

Simmons knelt down by Helga and placed his hand on her shoulder, "Helga, please do this. We all agree that such an opportunity would be wonderful for you and you are well deserving of it. You, Helga, you will go on to do great things, to write some of the world's greatest novels and poems. In order to do that you must further your already exceptional skills," Simmons arose, "I think we are finished here for now. Helga, you understand the circumstances? You know what's at stake, correct?"

Helga nodded, taking in what had just transpired. Inside, she was jumping for joy, "Yes,  
" she said, barely able to keep herself from jumping out of her seat and dancing. She stood up and picked up her belongings and walked toward the door.

"Good," Dr. Bliss smiled, "go to _all_ of your remaining classes and come back here promptly after your last class. We are going to go over a few things with Mr. Hendrickson, Principal Boyle and your parents."

Helga stopped dead in her tracks and turned around to face the woman, "My _parents_? You mean… my mother _and_ my father?" Helga cried, in utter horror.

"Yes, Helga, we need to discuss the details of your homework contract with Mr. Hendrickson and the details of the scholarship."

"Can't it just be my mother?" Helga asked, eyes wide, voice full of panic.

"Principal Boyle wishes to speak to both parents regarding the homework contract as well as the scholarship. We need both of their signatures," Dr. Bliss said.

Helga swallowed hard and nodded weekly. With a deep breath she turned and walked out the door feeling dejected, absolutely hopeless, like all her dreams had just been crushed into tiny pieces and swept away.

_They may very well have been._

At lunch Helga found Phoebe waiting for her right out by her locker, she was smiling brightly, obviously happy for her best friend.

Helga weakly returned the smile and shoved her stuff in her locker.

"Come on, let's grab something to eat." Helga said, darting out the door. Phoebe followed, quickly catching up to the tall blonde.

The sky was grey and it was rather drizzly. It was close to freezing but managed to hang a few degrees above. Which Helga was just fine with, she liked snow all right… but she hated ice.

"Helga!"

Helga stopped for a moment and turned. Arnold approached her with Gerald, Sid, and Stinky in tail.

"Helga, I heard about the scholarship," Arnold said, smiling warmly, "congratulations," he held his hand to shake hers. Helga just stared at his hand for a moment then sighed and shook her head. Arnold pulled his hand away and frowned a little.

"Yeah, I had no idea you were such a great writer," Gerald said, raising an eyebrow at the girl.

"Such beautiful words and so full of passion," Stinky beamed.

"Totally freakin' awesome," Sid exclaimed.

Helga now looked absolutely perplexed. Why did it seem as if they had actually read any of her work? Helga pondered for a moment then stopped suddenly, peering to the side at Phoebe, eyes wide.

"Yeah, it's a shame you missed the bus. I would have loved to hear you read it. Those beautiful words didn't sound quite right coming from Mr. Simmons," Arnold said.

Helga's eyes widened to the size of ostrich eggs. She swallowed hard and grabbed Phoebe's arm.

"Um… Thanks guys. Please excuse us for a moment," Helga dragged the small Japanese girl around the corner and turned to her frantically.

"Phoebe please say it isn't true… please say it's a lie!" Helga cried. She wouldn't believe it.

"Um…well, it's like…" Phoebe stalled and bit her lip. Helga's eyes looked fearful.

"Phoebe, please say you are playing with me. He didn't read anything, right?" Helga asked again. Phoebe pushed Helga's hand away and regained her composure.

"Really, I don't understand why it's such a big deal, I…"

"Criminy!" Helga interrupted, "he did! Phoebe… which one did he read? What was it called? You _have_ to tell me!" Helga demanded, her voice full of desperation.

Phoebe looked to the side, avoiding Helga's piercing gaze, "Um…" Phoebe wondered if it would just be best to make a run for it right then and there, "_Of Love, Hate, and Ice Cream_," she finally sputtered.

And then there was a scream.

The final class of the day came to and end and Helga dreadfully made her way to the counselling office where the Grim Reaper impatiently awaited her. She entered the room, not expecting her parents to be there yet. She was horribly mistaken. Gathered around the large, circular table sat Mr. Simmons, Mr. Hendrickson, Dr. Bliss, her mother, father _and_ her older sister. Helga swallowed hard, for the millionth time that day and tugged at her shirt collar nervously.

"Sit down, Olga!" Bob said, angrily.

Helga stared at him. It was now that she became very aware of everything around her: her parent's stares. The uncomfortable feeling that radiated from Mr. Simmons and Principal Boyle, who obviously felt intimidated by the presence of an angry Bob Pataki.

She could feel her father's anger, her sister's disappointment and her mother's lack of interest. She could feel the sting of the cuts on her hands and the sticking of the bandages that covered them.

She was devoid of all pleasant feelings.

"Helga, please, have a seat," Dr. Bliss said warmly, as she glanced over to Big Bob.

Principal Boyle cleared her throat and began to speak, "As you know we are here to discuss some very important information regarding Helga's academic performance," she said. Ann Boyle was a tall, thin woman with a rather long neck that of an ostrich or giraffe. She had strawberry blonde hair that was pulled up into a tight bun and wore a pair of thin-rimmed, square, reading glasses that did nothing to soften her sharp, angular facial features.

"Your daughter has high marks in World History and Japanese and an acceptable mark in Chemistry and I am sure you are well aware of her beyond-perfect grades in College Level English Composition and Creative Writing," Boyle said.

Bob snorted, crossing his arms and sitting back in his chair. His eyes narrowed and never leaving his youngest daughter, who was doing everything she could to fight his wicked gaze.

"Oh, that's wonderful, dear," Miriam yawned, barely acknowledging the fact that she was even there. Of course she would rather be at home drinking a smoothie and sleeping.

"Helga is a brilliant girl, but as you know, her math grade has fallen below passing…  
Hendrickson said, "and while I don't usually do this I am offering Helga the chance to make up any homework she has missed for full credit starting. She has from now until the first day of winter break to do so," Hendrickson looked to Big Bob who just narrowed his eyes at the older man.

"You know, Olga never got below an A+ in every class and would never once even think about cutting class," Bob sneered.

"Yes, _Bob_, we know how perfect Olga is, can we move on please!" Helga snapped. She was so sick of this.

"Don't you talk to me that way, Little Missy!" Bob raised his voice and Dr. Bliss cleared her throat and gave Bob a serious, stern look. Bob narrowed his eyes at the woman but kept his mouth shut.

"As I was saying… any missing work she completes before winter break can be turned into me for full credit," Hendrickson repeated, "I'll have you know that this is something I rarely do unless under extreme circumstances."

"Extreme circumstances? If Helga is cutting class she should get the F she deserves. What makes her so special? What makes her an exception," Bob growled.

"Well, um, this," Simmons said as he wearily handed him a tan envelope.

"Give me that!" Bob snatched the envelope from him. Mr. Simmons drew his hand back immediately, almost as if he thought that Bob would strike at it like a snake would.

Bob glanced over the paper and began reading aloud to himself, "to the parent's of Helga Geraldine Pataki, we are pleased to inform you that your daughter, Helga, has been accepted into a year-long writing program at the University of Kent in Canterbury, England…" he trailed off into incoherent mumbles as he read the rest of the letter.

Before even reaching the end of the letter Bob growled and slammed the paper to the table. Olga and Miriam started to read it for a moment before Bob grabbed it and shoved it away in the envelope and rested his elbows on it.

Miriam and Olga glance at each other then at Helga, astounded.

"So frickin' what? What the hell does this have to do with anything?" Bob growled angrily. He found this entire meeting pointless. It was cutting into what he viewed as more important, such as reruns of _The Wheel_.

"Everything, Mr. Pataki, everything," Dr. Bliss said, laying her hand on Helga's shoulder all while never taking her eyes off of Big Bob, "in order for Helga to continue to be eligible to attend the program she must pass all of her classes this year. One non-passing mark for one semester could jeopardise her chances."

"She should have thought about that before she started ditching classes…probably to smoke marijuana." He added the last bit as an after thought.

Miriam and Olga even gave him a dirty look this time.

"I am not smoking weed," Helga said, plainly.

"So it's other drugs," Bob insisted.

"I am _not _doing drugs, Bob!" Helga shouted.

" Don't lie to me. What else would you be ditching class for?" Bob said, staring at her accusingly. He turned and looked at Mr. Hendrickson and the others, "Look, she can go ahead and make up that work but it's not making any difference. She's not going. I'm not going to reward her bad behaviour with a free vacation to England," he yelled.

Helga's expression fell further. She was trying so hard not to cry.

Dr. Bliss spoke up again. Robert Pataki was out of control and she could see how much it was hurting Helga. Hell, it hurt her just to witness it. "Mr. Pataki! I think you are making some harsh accusations and some rather rash decisions regarding your daughter right now and…"

Bob rose to his feet, throwing his chair to the floor behind him. "Look lady, don't talk to me like you know Helga better than I do. I'm her father. She's my stinkin' daughter whether I like it or not!" Bob shouted, pointing a finger threateningly in the woman's face.

Dr. Bliss was unflinching. She, as well as the others were stunned by Bob's words. Tears welled up in Helga's eyes.

_Whether he likes it or not._

Helga jumped to her feet, also flinging her chair behind her.

"Sit down!" Bob shouted.

"Shut up, Bob! I am not listening to you anymore. You apparently don't even want me as a daughter and honestly I do not want you as a father! Ever! You aren't my father!" Helga cried, letting tears flow freely down her face, "You know nothing about me! You don't know that my name is Helga and that I am 15-years-old and that I am a sophomore in high school. You don't know that my favourite colours are pink and cornflower blue or that I am allergic to strawberries. You don't know that I read and write at a level that most University students do not. You don't know that I hope to devote my entire life to writing, that I intend to make a living from it," Helga stormed over to him and got right up in his face, her finger only a few inches from his right eye.

"Now, listen here you little brat!" Bob grabbed her wrist tightly and jerked violently away from himself.

Helga hissed and just pointed her index finger of her free hand in his face, "and you don't know that every time you speak to me it makes me want to go hang myself. Each and every time you open your mouth it's nothing but hate," Helga growled again, this time jerking her left hand away from Big Bob's grasp. "We're all aware of how much you hate me, of how you think I am worthless, about how I will never even come close to being like Olga and how I have just been a burden on your life ever since the day I was conceived," Helga said, turning to leave the room. "if you don't want me as a daughter, then you won't have to anymore!"

And with that Helga fled the room and out into the rain.

* * *

**AN:** Thanks for reading! Please R&R!  



	4. Chapter IV: Darkness

**Disclaimer:** Hey Arnold! and it's characters belong to Viacom, Snee-Oosh, Nickelodeon and are the creative genius of Craig Bartlett. Silent Hill belongs to Konami.

**Copyright:** Jack Grimmauld (Blanche's brother), Emily Gifaldi (Sid's sister), and Felicia Banks (Jamie-O's girlfriend) are of my creations. They are my characters and are not to be used without my permission… though I don't know why anyone would wish to use them.

**AN:** Sorry about the wait. I was having a bit of a writers block and a lack of motivation. Don't worry, I am feeling more motivated now and chapter 5 is coming along very well.

* * *

**  
Hey Arnold: Silent Hillwood**

By Demile

**  
Chapter IV: Darkness**

"Jack, I'm gonna beat the snot outta ya," Blanche growled, slamming a clipboard down on the counter. Jack was in for it, "I said no discounts!"

"Twenty dollars is way too much for a deck of cards," Jack said, taking a swig of cream soda.

Blanche threw her hands up in the air. The man was a hopeless case. He couldn't even follow a simple set of instructions, "damnit, Jack, they weren't regular old playing cards! That was an imported deck that I don't normally carry. It was on special order for a customer!" Blanche tightly balled her hands into fists and stormed over to him. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pointed her finger at him. One of her tough-as-steal, long fingernails was just a centimetre from his eye. "I swear Jack. I am going to kick your little butt so hard you won't be able to sit for a month!"

Blanche heard a ring from the door as a customer entered. She sighed and shoved her brother back into the chair he was sitting in. Blanche turned to the customer and smiled and nodded a greeting.

"Madame Blanche, did my Russian Gypsy Tarot deck come in?" the customer, a voluptuous redheaded woman, asked as she kneeled to look at some necklaces that were locked in a case.

"I'm sorry, Hon, it did but this bozo here sold it," she said, smacking her brother in the back of the head, "I'll place another order for you today and take 20 off for the delay," Blanche said, casting a sideways glance at her brother.

The redhead smiled, "Well, thank you Madam Blanche. I will check back next week then," and then she left.

Blanche turned back to Jack, "You can never do a single thing I ask, can you Jack? You not only sold that order, but you did so at a discounted price AND you threw in a free love potion! What were you thinking?" Blanche yelled, throwing her hands into the air, once again, "This is all coming out of your pocket!"

"It was just some grape soda! Isn't that a bit deceptive?" Jack frowned.

" It's a marketing ploy," Blanche said plainly, her eyes still narrowed at the man.

"You aren't about marketing," Jack said.

Blanche rolled her eyes and walked back behind the counter, "Maybe not, but I am running my own little business here, Jack." She said, reaching down into a small cube fridge to grab a can of lemon-lime pop. "I need customers and it's things like those love potions that lure them in," she said, slamming the refrigerator door closed, "Like the Pataki girl, I sold her an "out of love" potion several years ago… that girl was about nine years old, and even when she found out the truth and got her money back she still continued to come in here. She started to ask questions, she became more and more interested. Even today, she's one of my best customers."

"Whatever, Blanche," Jack downed the last of his soda and tossed the can to the side. "Can I go back to bed now or are you going to keep chewing my ear off?"

"No," Blanche said, walking over to him, "you are gonna get off your lazy butt," she picked up the soda can he had so carelessly tossed on the ground, "and go out and find a freakin' job," she chucked the empty can at his head.

Jack jumped to his feet, "but I am only going to be here for…"

"I don't wanna hear it, Jack." Blanche interrupted, "you have been on my couch for three months now and every day you keep saying 'It's only going to be for another couple-a-days… another weekend… one more week… next month.'" Blanche glared at him. Hands planted on her hips, "No more. You are outta here. Get a job!"

"And where do you expect me to stay in the mean time?" Jack whined, sounding somewhat like a 5-year-old.

"Sleep in your car… or you know what? Stay in a hotel."

"But Blanche I…"

"I know yeh got money on ya Jack, so don't you dare pull that 'But Blanche I'm poor' crap on me. I'm not gonna fall for it. I'm not gonna pity you Jack," Blanche shoved him toward the backroom and to the stairway, "Pack your shit, you ain't stayin' here tonight."

Cursing, Jack stomped up the stairs to Blanche's apartment, slamming the door behind him so hard that it shook a vase from it's resting place atop a bookshelf.

"What am I going to do with him?" Blanche muttered to no one in particular as she begun to pick up the pieces of broken porcelain from the floor.

Several blocks away the city bus came to a creaking halt at the Vine Street stop.

Arnold and Gerald arose from their seats and followed a herd of children and teens off the creaky old bus.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Gerald." Arnold said. The city bus sped away leaving a path of exhaust behind.

"Yeah man, later," Gerald said as they went their separate ways.

Arnold entered the boarding house, slipping his shoes of and setting them to the side.

"Hiyaaah!"

Arnold screamed and ducked just in time to avoid the swing of a long metallic object.

"Stop! Stop!" Arnold shouted, "It's Arnold! It's just me! It's just me!"

"Oh, why hello there, Kimba. I thought you were a zombie,"

All Arnold could do was stare at the old woman. His grandmother had done some pretty strange things before but attempting to beat him to a pulp with a broken pipe was never one of them.

"Zombies, grandma?" Arnold raised an eyebrow.

"There's something fishy going on around here, Arnold, and it's not the salmon in the kitchen. You've got to keep your wits about you. Watch your back, always stock up on health drinks and always make sure you have a weapon handy…" Pookie said quietly and in a serious tone. How could one take 90-year-old woman in a miniskirt seriously?

"A weapon?" Arnold asked.

"Well, of course, Arnold. You wouldn't want to be caught in a hoard of zombie children with knives without your handy steal pipe!" Pookie said, holding her own semi-rusted broken pipe into the air and swinging it around a bit.

Arnold backed away, "Right Grandma… I'll, uh, keep that in mind," then he turned and quickly made his way up the creaky, old wooden stairs and made a beeline to his attic bedroom.

Upon entering the room, Arnold tossed his book bag aside and flopped down lazily on the bed. He sighed to himself as he reached for his remote and aimed it at his stereo system and turned it on.

_So now what should I do _

_I'm strung out; addicted to you._

_My body aches now that you're gone._

_My supply fell through._

He lay there, staring up at his skylight, watching swirling dark clouds of fog roll in.

He glanced sideways to his book bag, which rested lazily in the middle of the floor then to his desk.

Arnold sighed.

It was calling to him. He knew he had to do it. No matter how much he tried not to think about it he knew he had to do it… the geometry homework beckoned.

He got to his feet, grabbed his book bag and made his way over to his desk. Arnold sat there for several minutes staring at the page. He couldn't concentrate. Something didn't feel right. He felt so distracted.

Arnold slammed the textbook shut and slipped on a pair of shoes before climbing the ladder to his skylight. He unlatched the window pushed it open, shuddering as the chilled air met his warms skin. Surly the temperature would drop into the 30s that night… maybe Hillwood would wake up to some snow.

Unfortunately now that was not the case. Arnold sighed, the sky was cloudy and the city was blanketed in a thick, mist. Arnold ducked back into his bedroom, locking the window behind him and exited his room.

Arnold could smell dinner being cooked in the kitchen, salmon, he half feared of what the rest of the meal would consist of… watermelon and pancakes? Pork rinds and marshmallows?

Arnold stepped into the front hallway and made his way to the kitchen.

"Hello Kimba, dinner will be ready shortly, Suzie's baking fresh bread for all of us," Pookie smiled.

"That's right and lemon pepper salmon, rice pilaf and a vegetable medley," Suzie piped, removing a pan of bread from the oven. Arnold was shocked, this sounded like a normal dinner, not that he had any objections to that… he, like everyone else, was sick of watermelon.

Arnold was about take a seat in the dining room with the others when the phone rang.

"Hello?" Arnold said, picking up the receiver.

"Arnold? It's Phoebe." Her voice sounded a bit shaky.

"Hey Phoebe, what's up?"

"I was wondering if you had seen Helga around at all. I have called her house several times and nobody answered. Finally I got through and they hung up on me. I tried her cell but I got her voicemail," Phoebe said.

"No, I haven't seen her since lunch. Is something wrong?" Arnold asked, concerned.

"Kind of. After I couldn't get a hold of her I went by and her father slammed the door in my face. Olga came to the door after and told me that Helga and her father got into a dispute and she took off. I have tried calling everyone, even Rhonda and none of them have seen her," Phoebe paused for a moment, "quite honestly, Arnold, I am worried about her. I have seen these fights with her father and they aren't pretty."

Arnold sighed. He knew about Helga's home life. It was no secret that Bob favoured Olga… actually, favoured is an understatement. Sometimes it seemed like he downright detested his youngest daughter. She was never good enough. She and Big Bob would never see eye to eye on any subject. She was stubborn but he was unreasonably so. "I'll keep an eye out for her. It's still pretty early. I don't see why she would come around here but I'll call you if I see her or find out anything."

"Thank you, Arnold," Phoebe said.

"No problem, Phoebe," Arnold replied, hanging up the receiver.

Arnold walked into the dining room, sitting down between Mr. Potts and his grandfather.

"That smells so good. I am so happy we are not having watermelon again!" Oskar cheered happily as he impatiently waited for Suzie and Pookie to finish up and bring in the food.

"There's no watermelon because your grandpa and I blew it up," Ernie snickered, a triumphant smirk on his face.

"Alright you guys, dinner is served," Pookie said, setting plate before Arnold. Everyone begun to dig in and Arnold just sat there staring at his plate, a very unsettling feeling welling up within him…

_Helga…_

It had begun to rain. Helga wandered the cold streets of Hillwood aimlessly; gaze directed downward, her eyes filled with tears that just kept coming.

Helga was oblivious to how long she had been out. The rain wasn't very heavy and yet Helga was soaked to the bone, it must have been a few hours at least.

"Helga! What on earth are you doing out here?" The distinguished voice of Madam Blanche called out to her. Helga wasn't even aware she had walked past the woman's shop. "You are gonna catch your death!"

"Good," Helga said plainly, continuing her way down the sidewalk.

Blanche darted over to her and grabbed her shoulder, "Kid, I am not just gonna let you wander around in this weather," she said looking up to the sky, "a big storm is moving in and it's freezing out here. You're coming inside," she said, pulling the blonde towards her shop.

Sighing, Helga reluctantly followed her inside and up to her apartment above the shop. "You can sleep on the couch tonight, there's a stack of blankets right next to it, help yourself," Blanche said, shoving Jack, who was standing right in the doorway, aside.

"What is this?" Jack asked, angrily.

"Shut up, Jack, go downstairs," Blanche ordered, narrowing her eyes at the skinny man. Jack frowned and stormed out of the room, Blanche following behind, the door slamming behind her.

Helga, peeled off her sweater, draping it over the arm of a chair and curled up on the couch in a blue fleece blanket, relieved that Blanche didn't ask any questions. Though she was also sort of bothered by it… if she didn't bother to ask any questions does that mean she already knew? Helga hated the thought of someone being able to read her mind.

Now that she was warmed up a bit the stinging sensation returned to her hands and legs. She pulled off her wet gloves, wincing slightly as the woollen fibres clung to her skin. She peered at her hands, which looked worse then they really were. There was a large cut on her left hand from where she was grasping the glass shard and several small marks on her other hand which had been resting upon some glass pieces on the floor.

Nothing serious, they did sting a lot though, she briefly thought of the possibility that the mark on her left hand would scar, but that was highly unlikely as ones palms are pretty resistant to such damage.

She gently pulled up the legs of her pants to observe the damage to her legs, the marks looked similar to the ones on her right hand only they were a bit deeper do to resting her entire body weight on the broken glass. Nothing was bad enough to need stitches and she just covered the deeper ones with some band-aids.

Helga rolled down her pants and curled up tighter into the warmth of the fleece blanket. Downstairs Helga could hear Blanche arguing with her brother. This made her feel very uneasy and unwelcome.

"You will let some girl, who has a nice warm home waiting for her, take over your couch while your own brother freezes on the streets in the storm?" Jack threw his arms up I the air, "this is ridiculous! Kids these days think they have it so rough," he huffed.

"Jack, quit yer whining. You can sleep down here on the bean chair," Blanche said, shuffling through the hallway closet, pulling out an extra blanket and pillow.

"You're heartless!"

"Oh, I'm heartless?" Blanche began to shove the blanket and pillow back into the closet, "then you can just stay in a hotel if I am so heartless."

"Sis, you are being cruel. I need to save every cent I have," Jack whined, turning his empty pockets inside out pathetically.

"Do you wanna sleep in the car?" Blanche said, glaring at him. Jack shook his head, "thought so, I'm not that heartless, Jack. You can sleep on the beanbag," Blanche said again, this time shoving the blanket and pillow in his face.

_What a softie I am turning into._

Jack laid out the blanket atop the beanbag and fetched a second one out of the closet, "so she just went to bed without saying a word? No thank you? No nothing?" Jack tossed the second blanket into his makeshift bed, "what an ungrateful little bitch. You let her into your sanctuary and…"

"Shove it, Jack. Helga's always welcome here," Blanche said, "the girl's having a rough time at home."

"Rough, schmuff. Let me guess, daddy won't buy her a new car? A new cell-phone? A pony?" he spat, his voice thick and dripping with disgust.

"That's enough, Jack! You shut your mouth right now or I _will_ kick you out into the street!"

"This is a load of bull, Blanche. I am going to give that girl a piece of my mind…" Jack said, shoving his sister out of the way. He took off, stomping up the stairs, making as much noise as he could with each step. Blanche took off after him and grabbed his arm at the top of the stairs just before he could open the door.

On the other side, Helga laid there, alertly awake, eyes wide.

"That's it Jack. I gave you the chance, you're outta here!" Blanche jerked him down the stairs by his arm and through the shop, shoving him outside then quickly locking the door.

Jack grabbed the doorknob and rattled it repeatedly. "Blanche! You can't do this! I'm gonna freeze out here!"

"Should of thought about that before you started being a pain. You're jus' gonna have to get a hotel or find somewhere else to stay 'cause you ain't stayin' here!" Blanche said, turning on her heel and storming off to the other side of the shop. She flipped off the light and made her way up the stairs. She rolled her eyes and shut the door behind her, still able to hear her brother shouting and hammering away at the door downstairs.

Outside, Jack quit rattling the door and walked out into the middle of the street looking up at the windows, "You can't do this to me, Blanche!" he wailed, ignoring the complaints of the residents that occupied the surrounding apartments.

Jack picked up a few small stones and started chucking them up at Blanche's window. "Blanche!" he called, throwing another one, "Blanche!"

Angry and frustrated, Jack picked up another rock and chucked it at the window again, this time a little too hard, breaking it. Just then the curtains opened and a large, burly man wearing a blue shower cap and a tiny pink towel around his waist leaned out the window.

"Hey! Hey! What's the big idea! I'm gonna kick your ass you little shrimp!" the man growled, raising his fist into the air.

Moments later the man was storming out of the building, still wrapped in his towel with a pair of fuzzy bunny slippers on his feet. Jack widened his eyes and sprinted off down the street.

"You're gonna pay for that! Get back here!" the man growled, following somewhat slowly behind.

Helga looked to Madam Blanche who was looking out the window, a smirk on her face. "Shouldn't we do something?" she asked.

"Nah. I'm tired of covering his ass. He can deal himself," Blanche said, drawing the curtains closed.

Helga turned around and sat with her feet flat on the floor. She looked around for a moment before she spoke again: "I should go. I started this whole conflict. I know when I am not welcome."

Of course Blanche would hear nothing of it. "Nonsense, sweetie, yeh stayin' the night here. Jack's been freeloading here for months… been gettin' on my nerves." Blanche said as she walked into the small kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee, "he's sour because I kicked him out this morning. I told him he had to pack up and find somewhere else to go."

Blanche stirred a bit of sugar and cream into her cup and flipped off the kitchen light. "I'll take you home in the morning. There's no way I am going to let you wander around in the dark like that, especially in this weather," she said, "I know it's only about a quarter till eight but I like to go to bed early and read for a while. You can watch some TV for a bit if you want and if you get hungry you can help yourself to the turkey sandwich in the fridge," she said, motioning toward the kitchen, "I got it for Jack but he wouldn't eat it because it's rye," Blanche rolled her eyes, "I'll be in my bedroom if you need anything, g'night."

Blanche shut the door to her bedroom leaving Helga in the dark living room. Helga attempted to go to sleep but found it damn near impossible, seeing as how it wasn't even 8PM yet.

After about 40 minutes of tossing, trying to sleep, Helga arose and tiptoed over to Blanche's bedroom door. She peered through the old fashion keyhole and saw Blanche sitting in her bed reading, the jazzy sounds of Dino Spumoni drifting from the old radio that sat atop the old, antique dresser.

Helga returned to the couch, quietly slipping on her shoes and sweater. She looked around a bit until she found a scrap piece of paper and a pen and quickly scribbled a note

_Madam Blanche, Thank you for your hospitality but I didn't want to intrude. –Helga_

She sat the note on the coffee table then folded up the blankets she had been using before making her way over to the window, which she opened as quietly as she could. It creaked slightly, which made Helga wince and freeze in place. Fortunately Blanche didn't hear anything. Helga climbed out onto the fire escape and shut the window behind her and slowly made her way down the slippery, wobbly ladder.

Once on the ground Helga ran away from Madam Blanche's shop, she didn't want the woman coming after her again, she didn't feel welcome there. Once she was a few blocks away she slowed to a walk and just continued walking. She didn't know where she was going to go. It didn't really matter; she just couldn't go home.

She thought about going to Phoebe's but didn't want to trouble her so she just kept walking... walking and thinking. Maybe she could walk until morning, thought it was not yet 8:30. She started to cry again and with the tears came anger, bitterness, the same intense feelings and sensations that overwhelmed her the previous night.

She could no longer feel the stinging of the cut in her legs and hands, she didn't know if it was because of her overpowering emotions or because of the cold. She didn't really care.

Several minutes later Helga found herself stumbling. Her heart was pounding, her head was throbbing, and she was breaking a sweat. She noticed for a moment that the world around her seemed to flicker, or was it her vision? Maybe the world around her was blacking out… or was it her mind?

Helga felt like she was on an out of control merry-go-round. Everything was spinning. She stumbled forth to a light post, wrapping her arms around the cold metal for support.

The world went dark, not black... just dark. It started to rain, and Helga suddenly found herself overcome with intense feelings of fear. She realized she wasn't going to stay conscious much longer. Something was wrong and she just knew she wasn't going to be able to make it to shelter before passed out.

Several metres away she could see a figure emerge from around the corner.

"Help… help me!" she called out weakly, sliding to her knees, still holding on to the streetlamp for support. "I think I'm sick. I need you to help me get to a hospital or something," she whimpered.

But the stranger never responded, instead it just slowly walked toward her; in fact she noticed it seemed to sort of drag itself along.

"Are you going to help me?" She cried again, pulling herself slowly to her feet as the person neared her. The person, a large man, stepped into the dim and flickering lamplight. Helga widened her eyes in terror. It wasn't a man at all. There was no face. Covering where ones face would normally be was putrid yellow, translucent membrane covering large, blue pulsating veins.

What sounded like a muffled growl could be heard underneath the creature's rubbery flesh. The growl sounded almost human. It balled a fist, which was almost as big as Helga's entire head. Helga was in somewhat of a trance, one likely induced by sheer, genuine fear. She found herself frozen there like a deer in headlights.

The creature lunged forward at her and she stumbled backwards against the lamppost and fell to the ground, which seemed to shake her out of her trance.

She screamed and darted off toward the intersection, slipping and falling on the wet asphalt. The creature turned and lunged at her again. Helga scurried out into the middle of the intersection where she screamed again and collapsed just as the monster vanished into dust.

With the last ounce of strength she had left she crawled out of the empty intersection and up into the parking lot near the back entrance of Slausen's Family Diner and Ice Cream Parlour. The rain stopped, the darkness lifted and streetlights stopped flickering and returned to their bright, fluorescent glow which was the last thing Helga caught glimpse of before passing out just a few metres away from a white 1985 Toyota Celica.

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**AN:** There it is! Finally. Sorry for the wait, I know there are mistakes, I have yet to do a thorough proofread. I just wanted to get it posted since many people seemed really anxious and wanted the next chapter. This story WILL get edited, promise. Please R&R! Thanks! 


	5. Chapter V: Worry

**Disclaimer:** Silent Hill belongs to Konami. Hey Arnold! belongs to Nickelodeon, Snee-Oosh, Viacom and Craig Bartlett.

**Copyright:** Jack and Ramon belong to me. (Technically Mrs. Arrington also belongs to me but I don't give a crap.)

**AN:** Okay, after all that time I finally have finished chapter 5. A lot of stuff has gone down, leaving me with a ton of time on my hands…. One being the loss of my job… grr. I went from working 50hrs a week to working ZERO in one day…. Big fiasco, lots of drama, not gonna get into it.

Anywho, here's chapter 5. Enjoy. Sorry for mistakes, I haven't edited it, just spell-checked. I just wanted to get it up for you guys. Please do not go on pointing out every mistake, I know they are there and I will fix them in time. Just enjoy the story for now. It will be more polished soon.

* * *

**Hey Arnold: Silent Hillwood**

By Demile

**Chapter V: Worry**

It was just after 9PM when Jamie-O Johansson's shift came to an end. He finished restocking some ice cream bowls then untied his work apron and draped it over his arm.

"Alright you guys. I guess I'll see you all on Friday then," he said, counting the cash he made in tips. His fellow employees bid him goodnight after punching out then left. Jamie quickly went back around to double check the front and side door locks before grabbing three large bags of trash and clocking out. Jamie exited out the back door, locking it behind him, then tossed the three garbage bags into the large green dumpster behind the diner.

The air was freezing cold and the wind was blowing fiercely. It was even starting to snow a little bit. Jamie hurried toward his small, white Toyota. He was fiddling around with his keys when something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention.

"What the…" He turned, noticing a small mass curled up on the cement nearby... a person. Jamie shoved his keys back into his pocket and darted over to the figure on the ground, which he then recognized was a young girl.

He rolled her over on to her back and brushed the wet, matted hair out of her face. "It's the Pataki girl," he whispered, trying to shake her a bit, "Pataki! Pataki! Wake up! What happened to you? Pataki!"

Jamie shook her a bit more and patted her face again, she made no response, "Oh man, she's not waking up, what do I do?" He checked to make sure she was breathing, which she was. He knelt down and gently picked the thin girl up and laid her down in the passenger seat of his car to get her out of the rain before running back into Slausen's. He made his way through the darkened kitchen to the front of the diner as quickly as he could, frantically feeling around for the light switch, flipping it on when he finally did.

He reached for the black phone that sat next to the register and dialled 911. He heard no more than two rings before the lights went out and the phone went silent.

"Damnit!" Jamie-O slammed the phone back on to its base and ran back outside. He got in his car and made sure the passenger seatbelt was securely fastened across Helga before exiting the parking lot.

Gerald Johansson was in the kitchen pouring himself a glass of milk as the electricity went out.

"Ahhhh! No!" came a scream from down the hall. The scream was the frustrated cry of one 12-year-old Timberly Johansson. Gerald reached into the drawer for two small flashlights and made his way down the hall and shined the flashlight into his bedroom, where his younger sister had been playing video games only moments before.

"What's up, Kiddo?" he said, tossing her a small, red, flashlight.

"Heather just puked up the demon foetus and Claudia was eating it," Timberly said, making a disgusted face, "then everything died," she then rolled her eyes.

"Oohhh, you were almost at the end… save?" Gerald said, plopping down on the bed next to her. Timberly narrowed her eyes then look away sheepishly.

"No…"

"Ohhh, harsh. Tough luck, Kid," Gerald said. Timberly sighed, sliding off the bed and putting the controller away. She then left the bedroom, returning to her own a few doors down the dark hallway.

Gerald smirked and flopped down on his bed directing his attention to the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling. He heard his parents emerge from their bedroom and walk down the stairs.

"You guys all right?" Martin called out.

"Dad, the power is out!" Timberly shouted from down the hall, stating the obvious.

"I am aware of that, Pumpkin." Mr. Johansson sighed, shaking his head slightly. Outside he could here the wind picking up and it had begun to snow a little, "I wonder where Jamie is… he's usually home by now," he said as he entered the kitchen where his wife was lighting some candles, there was a hint of worry in his voice.

"I'm sure he's just taking longer because of the weather, Dear," his wife, Diane, assured him.

Just then the front door flew open and a strong gust of frozen air blew in.

"Mom, Dad! Come quick!" Jamie darted inside and Martin rushed to close the door. Hearing all the commotion Gerald ran out into the living room, nearly tripping over his younger sister who tried to pass him. "It's the Pataki girl! I found her lying outside when I was getting off work. She won't wake up!" He said, handing Helga over to his mother who laid her down on the couch. "I tried calling for help but the phones were dead and the quickest route to the hospital is out!"

"Helga?" Gerald looked at the unconscious girl in confusion.

"Gerald! Go grab a warm change of clothes! Jamie, grab some towels! Goodness, she's soaked!" the woman removed Helga's sopping wet jacket as well as her socks and shoes. She then checked Helga's pulse, nodding to herself.

Gerald and Jamie dashed back in the room with their mother's requests, laying the clothes and towels on the back of the sofa then stood there, watching, waiting for their mother to tell them what to do next.

"I think she's gonna be fine. I need to get her out of these wet clothes…" Diane paused, looking at her family, "Well? Go! Get out! Shoo!" and with that, Gerald and his siblings shuffled off down the candlelit hallway.

"I'm going to make room in the garage for Jamie's car," Martin said, clearing his throat before heading out the garage door.

"What's going on, Jamie-O?" Gerald asked. The three of them were flopped down lazily on his bed. "What happened to Helga?"

"I was getting off work and I found her out in the parking lot. I couldn't wake her up." Jamie said, worried.

"What was she doing?" Timberly asked, curiously.

"I haven't a clue. She was in earlier today… came in around 2:30 and ordered a sundae. She was fine then," Jamie said. Timberly stood up and walked over to the door.

"Oh… well, I'm going to bed. Goodnight," She said, exiting the room and shutting the door behind her. The two brothers laid there in silence for several minutes, both staring, once again at the stars on the ceiling.

"It gave me the creeps…" Gerald said, finally breaking the since.

"What?" Jamie asked.

"She looked dead, Jamie. It creeped me out. What do you think happened?"

"I don't know, Gerald. Hopefully she will tell us when she wakes up," Jamie said, sitting up and planting his feet firmly on the floor. He yawned and rose to a stand when his father entered the room.

"Gerald, Jamie, would one of you mind giving up your bed for the night? It would be best if we let the Pataki girl sleep in one of them. She's like ice and the living room is freezing without the heater.

Gerald was taken back by this question and sprawled out across his bed in effort to show his father it was _his_ bed.

"Sure thing, Pops," Jamie said, leaving Gerald's room, his father in tow.

Jamie opened his bedroom door revealing something that quite resembled a landfill. Soda cans, bottles and potato chip bags lined the floor around the bed. Who knew what might be under it…

Jamie-O shoved aside a pile of dirty clothes, cramming them under his desk.

Jamie motioned to the bed, which was a heap of blankets and some more dirty laundry strewn in the mass of tangled sheets.

"There ya go, dad. I'll go crash on the couch," Jamie said. Martin scrunched his face as his eyes scanned over the disaster area. He knew Jamie meant well but simply couldn't make Helga stay in there.

"Umm…" Martin pondered a moment more before calling out to his youngest son, "Gerald!"

"Oh no! There is no way I am giving up my bed to Helga G. Pataki!" he called from down the hall.

--Several minutes later—

Gerald took one last glance at the still-unconscious Helga before his mother closed the door and stepped out into the hallway. Even in the very dim light the candle provided she could easily make out her son's angry frown.

"Why couldn't she have taken Timberly's room?" Gerald whined.

"Your sister was already asleep! It's not going to kill you! You'll be fine, Gerald. There are plenty of extra blankets in the linen closet." Diane said and Gerald narrowed his eyes to tiny slits, as if trying to fry holes through his mother with laser-vision. "Gerald!" Diane glared back at the boy, her hands firmly planted on her hips, "I couldn't have just let her freeze to death!"

Gerald scoffed, "Ooohhh, but you don't care if your own son freezes to death! Okay, I see how it is!" he growled.

"Ugh, Gerald…" Diane shook her head and motioned toward the living room. Gerald turned in a huff and stormed off angrily down the hall.

It was 4AM when a loud crash awoke Madame Blanche from her slumber. She laid there for a moment in silence, listening. About twenty seconds passed before she heard another loud crash from outside, followed by the screech of a cat.

Blanche let out a relieved sigh and rolled over, closing her eyes.

Moments later another crash caused her to jolt upright in her bed. She had no doubts; there was someone inside her apartment. She quietly slid out of bed, hearing faint footsteps on the other side of her bedroom door.

She immediately reached for the telephone on the dresser only to discover the line was dead. Cursing she quickly slipped her feet into a pair of running shoes that next to the bed, silently thanking herself for taking up jogging in the mornings.

As quietly as she could she opened her nightstand drawer, pulling out a flashlight and a large, old leather diary with a pentagram engraved on the front. For a moment her shaking fingers traced each of the five points of the star then around the circle that enclosed it.

"I was hoping never to take you out…" 

Finally, she opened the book to reveal that it had been hollowed out to house a small handgun. It was loaded but she left the safety on. She had no intention of shooting anybody, but she needed to show that she was, in fact, armed.

She crept toward the door and peeked through the old keyhole. Indeed there was someone inside her apartment. She could hear him shuffling around the living room. She gasped lightly to herself. "Helga!" She whispered, remembering the girl that was thought to be asleep in the living room.

Blanche flung the bedroom door open.

"HELGA! GET TO THE FLOOR!" she shouted, aiming the handgun at the figure. She could just make out his somewhat bulky form in the darkness. Immediately the figure made a beeline to the window, climbing out and darting down the fire escape. Blanche wasn't far behind, descending the icy ladder as fast as she could. "HOLD IT! GET BACK HERE!"

Adrenaline pumping, Blanche ran through the snow and sleet, chasing the man who seemed to be getting tired as he was slowing down and she was closing the gap between them. She chased him a few more blocks and was really close to catching up to him before he disappeared down an alley. Blanche decided not to follow him, a wise decision to make even if the streetlamps had been lit.

Blanche sighed and turned around and began making her way back to her block, never letting her guard down. Downtown Hillwood isn't so welcoming in the middle of the night. It was a sacrifice she had made. Her quaint one bedroom apartment was located directly above her store, it was a convenience and for it she had to sacrifice the more tight-knit safety found in the suburbs.

Blanche got to the end of the block before she stopped dead in her tracks. She stood there for a moment peering around in the blindingly white fog, listening intently. Suddenly, for a split second, everything changed. The world became dark and a rush of loud shrieks assaulted her ears before quickly returning back to normal. Blanche felt dizzy, like getting a head rush when you stand up too fast. She shook her head and gave her surroundings another look-around before crossing the street.

"What? Just now… what was that?" 

Blanche reached the corner of her block several people were out, standing about in their robes and nightclothes, including the man that had chased her brother earlier in the evening.

Blanche's breath hitched in her throat as she approached her shop.

"Oh goodness, no!" She cried, running toward her shop. The front door had been broken open and was barely hanging to the frame by one hinge. Blanche stepped in warily, mouthing hanging open, eyes wide. The place was in complete disarray. Books were scattered everywhere. Two glass display cases were broken. The ground was littered with bits of wax and broken and crushed candles. Jewellery, cards, and other displays were strewn everywhere.

Blanche just stood there in shock, shock that was quickly replaced by anger. She stormed out back into the street and looked around at the people standing about.

"Did you see them? How many were there?" She asked.

"My husband heard you yelling down the street when I came to the window I saw about three or four men take off in the opposite direction," an elderly woman said. Blanche shined the flashlight toward her, careful as to not blind the woman. She then recognized her as old Mrs. Arrington, who ran the bakery across the street from her own store.

"I need to report the break-in. Does anybody have a cellphone. The lines seem to be out," Blanche said, sighing.

"Can't get any reception. Power's out all over the city, cell-tower's probably knocked out too… Would ya like me to give yous a lift to the police station, Ms. B?" asked Ramon Willis, Blanche's neighbour. She hated to ask for help, especially after Jack caused quite a scene earlier that night.

"That won't be necessary, Ramon, if you can help me fix that front door that would be nice. And, don't worry, I will pay for the repairs to your bedroom window," Blanche said.

"Dun' worry 'bout it Ms. B. But if I ever get my hands on that scrawny little brother of yours I'll…" the large man punched his fist once then made a choking motion with his hands.

"Be my guest…" Blanche said, nonchalantly. "Thank yeh all for your concern. Everything's fine now. I'm sorry for the disturbance. I'll see you in the morning," Blanche called out, waving the bystanders back into their homes.

"So, whatcha gonna do about them no-goods that broke in to your store?" Ramon asked.

"Nothing much I can do. Right now we should just fix the door and then I can go by the station tomorrow after I take Helga…" Blanche stopped mid-sentence and widened her eyes. "Oh my god! Helga!" Blanche took off running into the shop, careful not to step on any of the scattered merchandise. She made her way to the back of the store, and darted up the stairs. "Helga? Helga!" she called out. She jiggled the doorknob, cursing as she remembered that the door was locked from the inside.

Blanche reached behind the framed art nouveau fairy print that hung in the darkened stairwell and pulled out her spare key that was taped to the back of it and unlocked the door.

"Helga!" she called out, frantically shining the flashlight around the room. "Helga!" she called out again, shining the flashlight toward the couch where Helga had been sleeping.

The blankets were folded and the pillows were put away. Blanche also noticed that the girl's shoes, which were sitting by the table, were also gone. That was when she noticed the small piece of paper sitting on the coffee table. She strode over and picked it up, unfolding the paper and reading the note to herself.

She sighed heavily; relieved, knowing that Helga had not been kidnapped. However, she remained fearful at the fact that Helga had gone out wandering alone at night.

"Hey, are you okay, Ms. B?" Ramon asked, peering into her apartment from the stairway.

"I'm alright. The Pataki girl was supposed to stay here tonight but it looks like she snuck out on me…" Blanche said in a worried tone.

"I'm sure she's alright, Ms. B. Let's get that door of yours fixed," Ramon said and Blanche nodded and followed him back down the stairs, closing the door behind her.

* * *

**AN:** Well, there you have it! Chapter 6 is underway! Please R&R! Thanks a bunch! 


	6. Chapter VI: Restless

**Silent Hillwood**

by Demile Ashford

**Chapter VI: Restless**

The storm had left the entire city without electricity and by the looks of it, communication as well. All attempts to contact the city power company were in vain. Those insane enough to attempt to leave the city didn't get far. It almost seemed as if Hillwood was completely closed off to the rest of the world.

The lack of electricity made for a very uneventful weekend. The first day Arnold was fine, he curled up in bed, read a few books by candlelight, listened to his mp3 player and slept. The second day, however, Arnold battled with restlessness and spend more time pacing about the cold house than anything else. He had spent a few hours reading, another zoning out to the storm with his iPod and the rest of the day was spent by making frequent trips down into the kitchen and consuming way too many cups of hot chocolate while making idle chitchat with the borders before, once again, curling up and going to sleep.

At the beginning of the third day Arnold decided he had had enough. He was getting cabin fever and was determined to get out of the house before he found himself making battle cries while swinging naked from the ceiling fan, covered in warpaint.

Everyone in the boarding house was cold, bored and generally uneasy with the creaks and moans of the old building they had lived in for so many years.

The borders had been gathered in front of the fireplace with as many blankets as possible because the entire house and been freezing and with the electricity and heat out it was a constant battle of who gets to sit closest to the fireplace.

Arnold wanted none of this and after announcing his restlessness to his grandparents and his plans to go over to Gerald's they reluctantly agreed to let him go, granted of course that he pack some pickled herring sandwiches to take over to the Johansson's.

Arnold changed out of his sweatpants and into his jeans and sneakers and a long-sleeve t-shirt. He packed up his iPod, flashlight a notebook and a change of clothes into his backpack then grabbed his jacket before heading back downstairs.

After retrieving the sandwiches from the kitchen Arnold bit his family goodbye and emerged from the boarding house and into the unwelcoming cold. Thankfully the rain was barely a drizzle.

_"For now,"_ Arnold sighed, tucking his umbrella back into his backpack before descending the stairs and hitting the street.

By the time Arnold reached the school the rain had picked up and it had become significantly darker. With nothing more than a medium-weight cargo jacket over his long-sleeve shirt to protect him from the chill Arnold looked around for a moment before darting across the street to quickly take shelter beneath the covered bus stop. He shuffled through his backpack for a moment in search of his umbrella when a loud clatter caused him to drop his backpack. Startled, Arnold jumped back to see a cat dart under a dumpster in a nearby ally.

Arnold sighed and shook his head, collecting his belongings.

_"It's just a cat. Why am I so jumpy over some stray?"_ Arnold said to himself. He zipped up his bag and stepped back out into the rain, opening his umbrella. As he began to walk away he heard another sound, this one a much louder clatter than before followed by the scream of a cat.

Arnold stopped and turned, peering down the long ally. Something was down there alright, he couldn't see it through the mist but he could hear it. He could hear its footsteps moving closer; he could hear it's breathing. He heard a growl echo through the ally and Arnold took off running.

Out of the shadows leapt a giant dog; or at least he thought it was a dog. It kind of resembled one. It flew at him giant claws flying for his pants leg. Arnold looked back, hitting it with the umbrella.

"Get off of me you crazy..." Arnold cut himself short with a gasp. This wasn't just your average run-of-the-mill mutt. It was bearing fangs several inches long dripping with blood, likely belonging to that cat. Its flesh was grey and rubbery, hairless with pulsating blue veins bulging beneath its semi-translucent skin. It growled fiercely and jumped at Arnold who swung his backpack at it in defense as he turned around to take off running. He jumped the fence of PS118, the dog creature not far behind, and ran towards the dark building. He flung himself at the front doors of the school; it didn't even occur to him that they would be locked. The dog jumped the gate and Arnold ran to the side of the building, just as he jumped up to grab the first ladder run and pull himself on to the fire escape he heard a shrill yelp from the dog. Arnold turned suddenly, catching a glimpse of a large man as he knocked the dog against the fence, killing it on impact, before losing his grip on the ladder and falling to the ground. Arnold was about to call out to the person but stopped himself. Something wasn't right.

With an odd jerk the man turned and faced Arnold and stumbled toward him. Arnold scrambled to get to his feet as the man neared. He scurried backwards, shining his flashlight at the man. It was then that Arnold discovered that this man had no face.

Arnold yelled, and stumbled backward into the mud, gaping wide-eyed at the grey and putrid yellow membrane that covered where its eyes, nose and mouth should be.

_"Surely it must be a mask. He's using a mask to conceal his identity_," Arnold thought, trying to reassure himself that there was some logical explanation behind this.

The creature let out a gurgling growl and closed in on Arnold who was now cornered between the wall and a dumpster. Arnold yelled and dropped to the ground, reaching for a broken plank of wood that lay near the dumpster. He swung desperately at the approaching figure as it loomed nearer. Arnold widened his eyes in fear as the creature raised a mighty hand. Arnold hid his face, terrified and took several blind swings at the creature. He let out a terrified scream as the creature swung at him. Suddenly it drew back and emitted a deafening shriek and Arnold looked up just in time to see the creature vanish into dust.

Arnold sat there, still huddling toward ground, his fingers gripping tightly onto the wooden plank. His breaths were coming in short, uneven gasps; his eyes wide. After a few minutes Arnold jumped to his feet and frantically bolted out of the schoolyard as fast as he could in the direction of Gerald's house.

***

Helga sat up and shrieked in terror and flung herself from the bed. She darted across the room in a panic, her eyes frantically darting around her unfamiliar surroundings. Her body was drenched in sweat and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Her eyes darted to the doorknob as it wiggled, she screamed again and scrambled to the far corner of the room, grabbing Gerald's baseball bat.

"Stay away! Stay away from me!" she screamed, ducking into the corner between the desk and the closet door. She crouched down, drawing her knees to her chin, clutching the bat as tight as she could.

The door flew open and Gerald and Jamie-O ran in.

"Helga! Calm down! It's just me, Gera –"

"Stay away!" Helga shrieked again, taking a swing at Gerald's leg with the bat. Gerald let out a yelp and stumbled backwards to the bed, rubbing the side of his leg where Helga had struck him. She hadn't hit him too hard; he had been standing to close for her to get any power into the swing.

Jamie-O grabbed the bat before Helga could take another swing and yanked it from her hands, "Mom! Dad! Come quick! It's Helga!"

"Helga! You're safe!" Jamie-O knelt down by the terrified girl, and went to brush her sweat-soaked, matted hair out of her face, "it's okay. You're with frien- OW!" Jamie leapt backwards, clutching his hand. By the looks of it, Helga was psychotic. Jamie-O had let a crazy person into their house.

"What happened?" Mr. Johansson asked, running into the room, his wife not far behind.

"She bit me! I dunno what happened! She just flipped out!" Jamie, said, shaking his hand and wrapping it in his shirt.

"She hit me, Dad!" Gerald exclaimed, still rubbing the side of his leg.

"Jamie, go take care of that before it gets infected," Martin said then turned to Gerald, "Come on, you'll be fine, it will leave a bruise, let's go grab an ice pack."

Mrs. Johansson knelt where Jamie had been, hoping that a softer tone would snap Helga out of whatever sort of terror-induced state she was in.

"Helga? Helga, are you alright? It's me, Mrs. Johansson, Gerald's mother. What happened to you?" She whispered in a calm and soothing voice.

"A man... grey skin... monster... that thing... it's coming! Darkness!" Helga cried, her eyes still wide with terror. For a second Diane thought that Helga might not even be awake and that this was a severe night terror but she quickly withdrew that conclusion as Helga seemed to be aware of her surroundings.

"Nothing is coming. Nothing is going to hurt you! You're safe here," She said, holding her hand out to Helga. "Come on, take my hand, it's okay," She soothed. Helga sat there, staring for a moment, before reaching a shaking hand out and taking Mrs. Johansson. She pulled herself to her feet and steadied herself against the desk, "Alright, the power is out but I can heat up a little water. We'll get you cleaned up then get you something to eat," she said, leading Helga out of the room and toward the bathroom.

Jamie-O walked into the living room, wrapping his hand with some gauze. He took a seat on the sofa next to Gerald who was holding an ice pack to his calf.

"How is she? How's your leg?" Jamie asked.

"Fine, just a bruise," Gerald frowned, "Mom got her to stop screaming. She's in the bathroom getting cleaned up," Gerald said, "How's your hand?"

"She got me pretty good, but it'll be fine, nothing to worry about. I feel bad for scaring her... I wonder what happened. Did she say anything?" Jamie-O asked and Gerald shook. "Come on, I'm gonna make some hot chocolate in the kitchen."

Over the next fifteen minutes or so Gerald had retired the ice pack and he and Jamie-O drank their hot chocolate while playing a game of Chinese Checkers. Already somewhat freaked out by the events of the last half-hour they both found themselves jumping up startled by a loud pounding noise from the living room. Realizing it was just somebody knocking on the front door Jamie-O laughed, attempting to cover up the fact that it had startled him as much as it had Gerald.

"Gerald! It's me! Let me in!"

"Arnold?" Gerald got up from his seat and rushed into the living room, opening the door to a cold and drenched Arnold. He flew into the living room, quickly slamming and locking the door behind him.

"Gerald you'll never believe-"

"Arnold! Man am I glad to see you. You will never believe this one!" Gerald interrupted. Taking Arnold's coat and tossing it aside he pushed the blonde boy into the living room and handed him a clean, dry towel.

"Gerald, I..." Arnold began again but Gerald waved his hand at him, shushing him, completely overlooking the expression of obvious distress on his friend's face.

"So two nights ago it's storming like crazy, right? Electricity's out, phones are out and Jamie-O's late coming home from work. Mom's freakin' out like 'whoa!'" Gerald through his arms into the air as he flopped onto the sofa, "anyway, about 45 minutes later Jamie comes bustin' into the house carrying an unconscious Helga G. Pataki!"

"Helga?" Arnold sat up and looked quizzically at his friend.

"Yeah, man. She's just totally out of it, sick or something. Anyway, mom gives up my clothes and my bed to her and makes me sleep on the couch. Girl's out of it for two days except crying out in her sleep," Gerald walked into the kitchen and pulled another mug from the cabinet and poured Arnold some hot chocolate, "Mom says she was running a high fever. We were going to take her to the hospital but dad's car's in the shop and we couldn't get Jamie's piece of crap to start again," Gerald said, handing Arnold his hot chocolate then took a seat on the sofa across from him.

"Wha? How is she now? Is she okay?" Arnold asked, looking concerned.

"I'm getting there, man, I'm getting there," Gerald said, "So anyway, about twenty-five, maybe thirty minutes ago minutes ago she wakes up and starts freaking out, screaming about something. We go in there and try to get her to calm down and she hits me with a baseball bat!" Gerald exclaimed, rolling up his pant leg to show the fist-sized dark bruise on his calf, "then she bites Jamie-O and screams something about a man; a monster with grey skin," Arnold quickly sat up straight and shook his head quickly.

"What? Say that again?" Arnold was at a loss for words. Had Helga possibly encountered the same thing he had? Was it a person or something else? So many questions buzzed through Arnold's head. He had to talk to Helga. He had to find out what she saw. He had never been so scared in his life and whatever it was almost made her lose her mind.

"A monster; Man, I tell you, that girl is nuts. She's in the bathroom now, cleaning up. Mom's changing the bedding and-"

"Gerald I.... I don't think she's crazy," Arnold said, still in shock at what Gerald had told him.

"Say what?" Gerald looked at him quizzically, "_How could she not be crazy? She was screaming her head off and attacking people,"_ to Gerald that was enough proof of insanity right there.

"I don't think Helga crazy," Arnold said again, louder this time. Arnold stared, wide-eyed at the floor. Gerald was going to think _he_ was crazy.

"Arnold, what the… how in the… are you crazy?"

"No, Gerald!" Arnold snapped his head up and he looked Gerald straight in the eyes, "I believe her because I think I saw the same thing."


	7. Chapter VII: Monsters

**Disclaimer:**I do not own Hey Arnold! Or Silent Hill. I am just borrowing characters and concepts for my own amusement.

* * *

**Hey Arnold! Silent Hillwood**

By Demile

**Chapter VII: Monsters**

Helga emerged from the bathroom wrapped tightly in a fluffy red towel. The long bath had left her feeling refreshed and definitely a lot more relaxed than she was an hour ago. She ventured down the hallway toward the kitchen in search of Mrs. Johansson.

"Mrs. Johansson, sorry to be such a bother but do you happen to have a change of clothes that would fit…" Helga stopped in her tracks and stared wide eyed at the person standing before her. Indeed it was not Mrs. Johansson but none other than her flaxen-haired, green-eyed muse. Arnold's jaw dropped for a moment and Helga just stood there stunned.

"Helga, are you alright?" Arnold asked.

Helga stood there for a moment, blinking a few times before answering.

"Yeah… I'm okay," she replied, a shiver running down her spine as she replayed the incident from the other night in her head. It was then that she realized she was standing in the Johansson kitchen in front of Arnold, clad in only a towel. "Criminy, stop staring, Football Head!" Helga shouted. His staring hadn't been at her semi-nude form but rather at the cuts and bruises on her face and shoulders, it wasn't until she pointed out his stare that he even registered the fact that the slender, blonde female was mostly naked.

Turning his head sheepishly Arnold muttered an apology and with a "Hmph" Helga turned and made her way back down the dark hallway to Gerald's bedroom.

"She looked pretty banged up," Arnold said, turning to face his best friend.

"Yeah, well, now that she's awake it looks like I get my bed back and Helga can go home," Gerald said with a satisfied smirk.

"Gerald!" Martin Johansson snapped as he entered the kitchen, "We don't even know what happened to her. What if her dad did this? Big Bob has quite a temper."

"You really think her dad caused those injuries?" Gerald eyed his father quizzically.

"I'm not pointing fingers at anybody Gerald, but I wouldn't put it past Robert Pataki to lose his cool and do something drastic," Martin said, pouring some bottled water into a tea kettle and placing it on the lit stovetop.

Gerald looked up at the sound of a door opening creaked from the end of the hallway. Timberly sluggishly shuffled her way down the hall and into the kitchen, shuttering lightly as her bare feet landed on the cold, pink tile floor.

"Ugh, when is the 'lectricity coming back? I'm so bored!" she groaned, slouching into one of the wooden chairs at the kitchen table. Over the past few days Timberly, out of sheer boredom she had drained the batteries of Martin's laptop, Jamie-O's portable DVD player, and Gerald's PSP and his iPod as well as her own. She also played at least a hundred games of solitare with a tattered deck of cards she had dug out of the miscellanious/junk drawer. She also proceeded to ask, every half-hour, if "Gerald's friend" had woken up yet.

"Dunno, kiddo," Martin said, shrugging. He sighed inwardly, wishing that his youngest was the type of kid who could get lost in a book for hours. Both Gerald and Jamie-O always managed to find ways to amuse themselves and rarely ever complained of being bored. Timberly had quite an imagination when she was younger, coming up with crazy schemes to get Gerald and Arnold to hang out and spend time with her. Now she was a typical preteen girl; gossipy and awkward, obsessed with myspace, and a fan of sending text messages or IMs to friends that were sitting right next to her.

Helga found a change of clothes laying on the bed for her. An old pair of Mrs. Johansson's jeans _  
("Pre-Jamie pants, had those in college,") _and soft pink cotton t-shirt (_"Just a bit too short for my taste. Ah, to be young again") _ Helga pulled the shirt over her head then tossed on a pair of clean, white socks before tugging on the jeans. She opened and closed her fists a few times, the cuts on her hands had mostly begun healing, save for a few scabs on her knuckles that she found herself idly picking at; a terrible habit.

Sighing she decided it was time to face everyone. She knew she was going to be asked, once again, what happened the other night. She, herself couldn't even quite describe what had happened and decided to gloss it over. The Johansson family had had enough of "Helga The Loon" for one day.

She emerged into the hallway once again, following the dim light at the end into the kitchen where Arnold and the Johansson clan, sans Mrs. Johansson sat playing another game of Chinese Checkers.

"Helga," Martin stood up and pulled a chair out from the table, "please join us, there is tea on the stove and sandwiches on the counter. I'm sure you are starved."

"Thank you, Mr. Johansson," Helga said, pouring some tea into a black, ceramic mug and helping herself to a few triangle shaped sandwiches. She took a seat next at the table and took a few sips of her tea, staring down at the table.

"Helga, what happened to you?" Timberly asked, nosey as usual. Gerald rolled his eyes, they had planned to wait until after Helga got a little more comfortable and had some food in her stomach before pressing her for answers.

"Timberly, can you please go into the other room please," Martin requested and Timberly frowned.

"Why should I?" She whined, narrowing her eyes.

"Because this is talk for the older kids and the adults," Martin said sternly, "now go. That's an order."

Timberly scoffed and jumped up from her chair and sulked out of the room angrily, passing her mother as she ventured down the hallway. Mrs. Johansson took a seat at the kitchen table with the rest of them.

"Hello Helga, I trust you are feeling a bit more relaxed now?" she said, smiling warmly.

"Yes, I am feeling much better now, thank you," Helga said quietly. Arnold was astounded. Never had he seen Helga so soft-spoken; so withdrawn. He could see fear lingering in her eyes, even if nobody else could. He figured what happened to her must have been pretty bad to make her act this way.

"Helga, what happened? Who did this to you?" Mrs. Johansson asked.

Helga sighed.

"Nobody did this to me. I fell… must have hit my head," Helga muttered, keeping her gaze down at her tea, watching the ripples form when she poked at the surface with her spoon.

"Helga, you said something about a person… who?" Jamie-O leaned forward, resting his elbows on the tabletop and his chin in his hand.

"I… I don't… I was having a nightmare," Helga sputtered.

"What were you doing out alone in the storm?" Martin asked,

"Bob and I had a fight and…"

"It's okay Helga, you can tell us. You're safe here. Did your father hurt you?" Martin asked. Clearing his throat he impatiently awaited her answer.

"No," she said, "I ran out, just wanted to get away from them, all of them. I took off, walked around for a long time. I was upset. I was walking through Slausen's parking lot when I slipped off the curb and fell… that's the last thing I remember," Helga explained. That seemed to be enough for Mr. and Mrs. Johansson. However she could tell by the looks on Arnold and Gerald's faces that they didn't believe a word of it, Arnold especially.

As soon as they were finished with their Arnold rose from his seat.

"Gerald? Can I talk to you for a minute?" He said, motioning towards Gerald's bedroom. Gerald stood up and followed his friend. The reached his doorway before Arnold stopped him and lowered his voice to a whisper, "Gerald, we need to confront Helga. It's obvious that she is lying. Something crazy happened to her and something happened to me, and I think they are both connected,"

"So you think we should talk to her now?" Gerald asked.

"Better sooner than later," Arnold said, "call her in here," Arnold entered Gerald's bedroom and motioned for him. With a sigh and a shake of his head, Gerald followed, quickly poking his head out the door.

"Hey Helga," he called out, "when you're through in there could you here for a minute," he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. Arnold elbowed him in the side.

"Gerald, be nice," he chastised.

"Please." Gerald added, rolling his eyes.

"Please excuse me," Helga swallowed the last of her tea and stood up, pushing her chair in and setting the mug back on the counter next to the kettle.

"Helga," Martin said, stopping her before she could disappear down the hall.

"Yes, sir?" Helga looked over to him. _Criminy! Enough with the prying already!_

"If there is anything you feel you need to say, anything at all, you can tell us. We are always willing to provide help and safety to one of Gerald's friends," He said, sincerely, though giving off that knowing vibe that something was amiss.

"Thank you, Mr. Johansson, I really appreciate it," Helga said, turning to leave the room. She smirked inwardly, amused. _Friends?_ She and Gerald were hardly what one would consider friends. They were more than aquaintences and they weren't enemies. They were on some sort of neutral footing for the sake of Arnold, who since the FTI incident several years back, had been making more and more bold attempts to befriend the feisty, sharp-tongued girl. Through their freshmen year of high school Helga and Arnold had developed into what could be called "friends." Helga had obviously been making attempts to control her anger and Arnold just accepted the name-calling and constant teasing for what it was: Helga.

"What's going on, Arnoldo? Hair-boy?" she said, shutting the bedroom door behind her and flopping down lazily on Gerald's bed.

Gerald was fiddling with a handheld AM/FM radio getting nothing but white noise.

"I was hoping for a little noise to drown us out so we wouldn't have to whisper," Gerald said, throwing the radio aside in frustration.

"Whisper? What did you guys want to talk about?" Helga asked, knowing full well they didn't believe her story.

"You gonna tell us what really happened out there?" Arnold asked, sitting next to her.

"What do you mean 'what _really_ happened?'" Helga, grabbed a pillow and flipped over to her stomach, "I said I got into a fight with Bob, went for a walk, slipped on the wet pavement, fell and hit my head," she said, making eye contact with neither of them.

"And that's why you've been having night terrors for the last few days?" Gerald asked.

"Well, I was out in cold rain for a long time, I was obviously ill," Helga snapped.

"Oh, come on! Helga, you've been quiet as a clam since your little outburst of _crazy_ early this afternoon!" Gerald said, "you hardly broke a whisper the entire time we were talking in the kitchen. You've never been one to keep quiet, Pataki," Gerald stated, narrowing his eyes at the girl. Gerald was right, Helga had a powerful voice and was never one to restrain it. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but Helga being quiet was like having a huge neon sign over her head that flashed "HEY! SOMETHING'S BOTHERING ME!"

"Seriously Helga, he's got a point. What happened?" Arnold asked, resting a hand on her shoulder, gazing at her with concerned eyes.

She flipped back over on her back "You wouldn't believe me if I told you!" she groaned, covering her face with the pillow. Arnold snatched the pillow from her and clutched it to him.

"Try me," he said.

***

"Wait a minute! You're saying he had _no face?!"_ Gerald asked, incredulously. Helga nodded. She had told them all the strange events of the week. Starting from the bum that pestered her a few days before and her seemingly psychotic sleep activities all the way to the startling events of her waking up earlier that day.

"It was like he was wearing some sort of faceless rubber mask… " Helga explained, she was now sitting cross-legged on the bed, speaking in a hushed, but excited voice, getting really into telling her story, "when I first saw him I thought he was… but then the noises he made, strange moans and growls, it was so… inhuman."

"About how big was he?" Arnold asked, trying to pull every detail from his head regarding his own encounter earlier that day.

I'd say… probably around my dad's height, close to his build too. Maybe a little bulkier," Helga said, "Why all the questions, Football Head? Going to steal my story to write a bestselling horror novel?"

"Was that like what you saw, Arnold?" Gerald asked and Arnold nodded.

"Only the thing that attacked me seemed bigger than Big Bob; Taller, definitely more built. I thought it was going to pound me to dust!" Arnold said, shuttering lightly.

"Wait, wait, wait! Are you saying you saw it too? That it _attacked_ you?" Helga could not believe what she was hearing. Inside she was bursting with relief at the fact that she might _not_ be crazy. Yet at the same time she found herself incredibly fearful at the idea of it all being real.

Arnold nodded, "Yeah, but that's not all, before that I was chased by a dog," he said, "Well, sort of, it was kind of skeletal and strange looking… and it had these huge fangs! It could have torn me to pieces!" Arnold explained how it chased him into the PS118 school yard and how the other man-like creature came and killed it and cornered him then turned to dust right as it was about to strike him. The other two sat there, staring, dumbfounded at the football-headed boy.

"So you're saying you were both attacked by similar things _and_ some kind of demon dog, er, Hellhound?" Gerald couldn't believe what he was hearing. As kids they had always fallen hook, line and sinker for every urban legend, every ghost story, every monster tale they heard. But this was almost too much to swallow. But Gerald believed it nonetheless. If Arnold said he was attacked by a demon dog and a faceless man then he was attacked by a demon dog and a faceless man. The boy did not lie.

Arnold nodded and stood up.

"Monsters aside, don't you find it a little too strange that we were both attacked? I mean, look at the chain of events… Helga get's harassed by some crazy man a few days ago going on about darkness," he started counting off on his hand, "then receives weird, ominous words of warning from Madame Blanche. Strange sleep disturbances, gets attacked by…something, is-"

"Arnold, I know what happened…" Gerald interrupted. Arnold narrowed his eyes.

"I'm not finished! Helga passes out in the middle of the storm, is picked up by your brother, is comatose for days then the same thing that attacked her attacks me on the way to your house," Arnold took a deep breath and looked to Helga, who looked rather annoyed at the fact that the two of them were talking like she wasn't there, but she decided not to say anything and hear him out anyway. "Gerald, I think it's too much to just be a coincidence, I think there's something bigger going on, something we can't yet even begin to comprehend."

Helga smiled inwardly, despite the grimness of the topic. Arnold was still the same open-minded, over-imaginative boy he was in his earlier years. This was possibly her favourite quality that he possessed; one that she hoped he would retain throughout all of his adult life and well into his golden years.

"So what do you want to do, Arnold?" Gerald asked, not quite sure where Arnold was getting at with all this cryptic talk, he was still skeptical but couldn't deny the fact there was something strange going on, "should we get the gang together and investigate? Like when we were kids?"

"No way! This isn't like when we were kids! There is real danger involved! You heard what this thing could do! Helga said it tore up a lamp post from the pavement! This thing could seriously injure or kill one of us, more likely the latter!" Arnold exclaimed. Helga admired the way he acted with such concern towards the wellbeing of his friends, not many boys would turn down the prospect of some real life, violent monster hunting… but then again Arnold wasn't most boys. "We're going to stay put, and hope that all of this comes to pass. We are not going to go out and fight monsters like in some video game!"

In the hallway, Timberly leaned against with her ear flush against Gerald's bedroom door, her mouth agape in awe.

"Wow," she whispered then jumped back startled as the doorknob jiggled. The three teens emerged from the room only to see the youngest Johansson standing in the hallway.

"What are you doing, Timberly? Were you listening? How much did you hear?" Gerald interrogated.

"I didn't hear anything! I was going to the bathroom!" Timberly shouted before stomping off into bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Gerald shook his head. "Siblings…" he muttered, not bothering to finish the thought.

The three of them moved into the living room. Helga pulled on a largely oversized black sweatshirt that belonged to Jamie and curled up at one end of the sofa, pulling the shirt over her knees, shivering lightly. Gerald tossed her a throw blanket before settling into the large, overstuffed recliner and Arnold rested at the other end of the sofa.

For the next two hours the three of them talked of random things from school to strange dreams to childhood memories; They recalled tales of Wheezin' Ed and The Headless Cabby. Helga was greatly amused by the Headless Cabby story, especially the part where they were scared blind by Eugene's late-night clog dancing. _"I'd be blinded too,"_ she thought.

"Speaking of blind, what about that time you blinded Helga?" Gerald laughed, "That was ridiculous, and then when she got her sight back she played you for a fool!"

"Yeah, you are pretty gullible, Arnoldo," Helga smirked, sticking her tongue out at him.

"Yeah, but then we picked up on it and totally got you in the end," Arnold retorted with a smirk of his own.

"That you did. That you did," Helga said, yawning. Arnold and Gerald also yawned. And over the next twenty minutes of light conversation they all dozed off, having nothing better to do than sleep while the storm kept brewing outside.

***

A hooded man entered the fire-lit study and knelt before a cloaked figure that sat, resting in the antique, red velvet-lined armchair.

"You have news for me? Good news, I hope," the man questioned, his voice was deep, powerful with a light-hearted yet sinister air to it.

"Sir, we have not yet located the one you speak of," the smaller man, said, bowing his head.

"Oh Icelus*," the larger man let out a long, annoyed sigh.

"We have been unable to locate her body but have successfully instilled the visions upon her in her time of slumber," the man called Icelus said, confidently.

"And just how did that work out?"

"Wonderfully; her dreamscape had successfully manifested itself on the physical plain," Icelus exclaimed, proudly. His master sounded pleased.

"And what of the lad?"

Icelus froze and lowered his head.

"Unfortunately, Sir, the dreamscape was interrupted and the boy got away," Icelus closed his eyes and braced himself for whatever was to come; a caning most likely, but the Master had a very short temper and could easily pull out a gun and shoot him without giving it a second thought.

"Oh phooey," The Master said in a saddened, disappointed tone. Icelus looked up, somewhat fearful "Very well then," he sighed, waving his hand to Icelus, dismissing him, "Let me know of any progress made."

"Yes, sir!" Icelus said, quickly bowing once more before scampering from the room and out the door.

***

"Gerald! Wake up! Gerald!"

"Hmmm?" Gerald mumbled, yawning and stretching, "What is it, Dad?" he asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

Helga yawned and rolled over, when Mrs. Johansson nudged her awake. She didn't hear what was going on but suddenly Gerald launched himself across the room at Arnold and Helga, shaking them both awake.

"Helga! Arnold! Wake up! Wake up!" he shouted and both of them sat up groggily.

"What's up, Gerald?" Arnold said yawning. Gerald's looked at him eyes wide with fear and what he said next almost made Arnold's heart stop.

"Timberly's missing!"

* * *

**AN:** Another chapter already. Hard to believe, I know! I am most pleased. I know what's going to happen in the story, it's all planned out. I'm not pulling anything out of my ass (pardon my language) but I was having trouble connecting a few events, and as I was sleeping last night/early this morning I had the idea literally jolt me awake. I hope you are all enjoying this. I'm so totally pumped and excited now!

*Icelus: In Greek mythology, Phobeter, known by the gods as Icelus, is the personification of nightmares and appears in dreams in the form of animals or monsters.


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